Don't Change
by Ranranami
Summary: The present has brought a lot of changes to Santa Carla. New condos by the beach, tourism is booming, and vampires are even more unbelievable than they might have been thirty years ago. When the Frog brothers' attempts to kill one of the Lost Boys failed, it was a miracle any of the Emersons survived. Well, sort of. Michael's a bit of a pain in the neck these days.
1. AirBNB?

Thirty years. It had been thirty years since he had claimed Michael for his own. Since he had taken him away from mortality and brought him into something more. Thirty years since Michael had killed Max and thirty years that they had let this damned house stand. David had decided that Max's old house had to go or at least become useful and that is how they all wound up standing in front of that stupid white picket fence.

"You want to do what?" David honestly couldn't believe what he'd just heard come out of Dwayne's mouth.

He shrugged in response, arms firmly crossed over his chest. It was still a little jarring seeing the dark-haired rocker actually wearing a shirt under his jacket. What's more, the shoulder-length hairstyle he'd adopted in the past decade was entirely new. Changing with the times was always a bitch.

"I just think we should get something out of it. We've trashed and cleaned the place up again a thousand times. AirBNB is a big thing now. Could make for a few easy meals if we just have that kid rent it out for us." Changing with the times or not, Michael's human brother would always be 'that kid' and none of the boys would ever bother with phones.

David had shorn his locks as well, they all had, except Paul, the stubborn bastard. "Alright, we'll try it. Extra money can't hurt." They had given the video store to Lucy but that had gone belly up recently. No one rented movies anymore.

There was no telling how many bodies had been buried in the back garden over the years. It was sort of fun to hire a couple of drifters now and again to look after it. Even funner when they discovered something nasty. One more body didn't hurt. They'd had a lot of good times in this house to make up for the bad ones. Nobody missed Max.

"You want me to stop Paul before he starts dumping the gas can in the bedroom?" Dwayne asked, glancing towards the fluttering curtains of the said room. Marko and Michael were in there somewhere scavenging for forgotten beer bottles they'd yet to open and finish off.

"Yeah, go ahead and stop him, we'll clean up and get the kid to post it or whatever they do now."

"So he's forty-five," Dwayne began, heading towards the front door, "we going to keep calling him kid if he gets to sixty?"

"Probably." David agreed, walking slightly behind him.

It might be fun to try out Dwayne's plan. Hell knew they hadn't changed their routine in a longtime. Parties and killing never got old, but they couldn't go all-out _every _week, or some actual capable hunters might show up. Those idiot Frogs at least managed to kill the loners and ferals that seemed to show up every so often with the changing of the season. When the long-haired one lost a hand to Marko and survived, he'd learned to stay far away.

"Hey, Marko! Where'd you put the matches?" Paul shouted from the back bedroom.

Dwayne quickly slipped into the house, disappearing upstairs. From there all David heard were a few heavy footsteps and the hard sound of a loud smack.

"What the fuck?!" Paul's voice blurted out.

From where David stood, he could see Marko and Michael reclining on Max's old couch in the living room, formerly a pristine white stained heavily with ash, wine, and cigarette burns. They were going to have to completely overhaul this place if they really wanted anybody to rent it out. Maybe this was more trouble than it was worth.

"Beer?" Marko held out a half-empty bottle towards David.

David walked over and took it, sitting down beside Michael, "Dwayne had an idea, I think we're going to go with it." He said, taking a swig.

Michael's head was leaning against the back of the couch, and he casually pulled forward with a sidelong glance at David's remark, "don't we always?"

"He does have good ideas." Marko agreed, "what is it this time?"

"AirBNB." David said, taking another drink.

"That thing Sam's always bitching about?" Michael asked, pulling a cigarette out of a crushed packet in his front jacket pocket and tucking it into the corner of his mouth while he dug for a lighter.

"Yeah, get the kid to post it, he can take a cut, and maybe he'll stop bitching."

Michael shrugged, "yeah, alright." It had been years since Michael made active attempts to visit with his old family, so maybe they'd jump at the chance to talk to him more.

"Gotta clean the place up first, replace this piece of shit. Who wants to raid a furniture store?"

Marko grinned, "you think me and Paulie can handle flying with a sectional sofa?"

"I think Paul is grounded for trying to burn the house down with us in it." Dwayne said, dragging the blonde down the stairs by his hair.

"Maybe Michael and I should go." David said thoughtfully.

Michael lit his cigarette, smirking, "grab a bite on the way?"

"I'm sure we can find something tasty." He replied with a smirk of his own. After all, summer was finally here. Plenty of tourists to go around.

* * *

When he was fifteen, if you'd asked Sam what the shittiest day of his life was, it might have been the night his brother left after he'd killed their mom's shitty vampire boyfriend. Dealing with the aftermath alone, including Lucy's serious trauma, his own, and his grandfather's subsequent half-assed explanation about all the shit he'd apparently known about in Santa Carla before was just as bad.

When Sam was forty, if you'd asked Sam what the shittiest day of his life was, the divorce was a close second if not a tie with the first. Now, five years later, living with his mom again and getting occasional calls from his kids, he constantly asked himself why they didn't just move. In fact, he'd been going over a pile of bills thinking about just that idea when his phone rang. Unknown caller. It'd be nice to just let it go to voicemail, but on the off chance…

"Mike?" Sam asked, rather than saying your typical greeting.

"I'm coming over. Are the stink twins there?"

Ever since they lost the comic shop in an unknown fire, Sam had a feeling it was probably Paul who burned it down, Alan had been working to support his brother and their continued hunting efforts. "No, they're not here. I wish you would stop calling them that."

There was a brief silence, and even with decades separating them from the close relationship they used to have, Sam could picture Michael's bored shrug before he even spoke up again, "then tell them to bathe. Listen, Sam, I need a favor."

A favor. Nothing good ever came of that. "What kind?" He asked skeptically.

"We want to rent out Max's house for weekends. Help us out." It was sounding less like a request and more like a demand. Mike could be such an asshole.

"Like AirBNB? Didn't you guys trash that place? How can you expect anyone to want to stay there?"

"We're fixing it," Michael replied testily, "they'll love it. Wasn't my idea, but that's how it is. So can you do it?"

"Yeah, I can do it but what do I get?" He wasn't doing this for nothing.

"I won't eat you," he replied. Sam heard distant laughter over the receiver from one of Michael's asshole friends.

"You won't eat me anyway, try again." He was feeling rather bold today, hopefully it wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass, literally.

His brother let out an agitated huff over the phone, "fine. I'll visit with you and mom this week and I won't bring anyone. That work?"

"I want that _and _a cut of whatever profit you get."

There was silence on the other end, just long enough to make him wonder if the call had dropped, before Michael finally spoke up, "sure. We don't need the money anyway." He sounded like-well, okay he _was _a teenager, always _would _be one, but holy shit. He was the older brother here, not Sam.

"When will it be cleaned up? I'll have to take some pictures."

"We can probably light the bonfire by Sunday," Michael replied, confusingly, "burn all the old shit then. Two weeks, maybe. Cleaning crew should have time to finish before we get rid of them."

"Call me when you're done and I'll come get pictures. I'll let mom know you're coming for the weekend." He scowled, "get rid of them? Mike, you're not gonna…" he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

"Night, Sam," Michael replied, thankfully leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air.

"Bastard." He grumbled, hanging up the phone, "I guess I really didn't want to know."

"Sam?" Lucy called out, stepping into the kitchen as she ran a towel over her hair. Thirty years hadn't done too much of a number on their mom. Wispy dirty blonde had become soft gray, and maybe there were a few more wrinkles around her eyes and smile, but she was doing alright for herself. Too bad the last guy she tried to date ended up being a literal blood-sucking parasite. Sam couldn't honestly say their dad was that much better.

"Yeah, mom?" He looked up at her from where he was staring at his phone.

"Honey, who were you talking to?" Lucy asked, throwing her towel over her shoulder, "was it Alice? How is she doing?" Her hope for reconciliation never seemed to completely fade.

He shook his head, "no, mom, I was talking to Mike, he's going to come over this weekend."

Her face lit up, "oh! I can make us something nice. He never seems to visit any more, you need to tell him to come over more often next time he calls. Or tell me he's on the phone!" There was a certain disconnect she had about what Michael had become, but Sam wasn't especially keep on bursting that bubble. She had enough to deal with already.

"I'll let you know next time he calls, promise." He smiled at her, "they want to open an AirBNB."

Her smile faltered a little, "I guess it's nice to know they're trying to find an honest way to make a-living."

"I'm taking a cut of it, if they want my help they're going to have to pay for it. I know he's my brother but college for Grace is getting expensive." He said before she could berate him for not doing this for free.

Lucy shook her head, "I just wish you'd been able to finish college, honey." She clapped her hands together, "okay, enough of that. I am going to go ahead and get dressed and you can pick what's on tv. Deal?"

"Deal." He wouldn't have to watch Wheel of Fortune tonight. Thank god for small fortunes. Now he just had to worry whether he'd be the one cleaning up the clean-up crew Michael mentioned.

* * *

Alan was tired, no, exhausted. He just wanted to go home but that wasn't always better. Ed made his life difficult on the best of days and impossible on the worst. He was finally done dealing with idiot customers and a boss that was almost as bad as Ed.

"Ed! I'm home!" Alan shouted, coming in the door.

"Just on time!" Ed shouted back, sounding alarmingly excited, "it's still light out. Meet me in the backyard!"

The backyard. Every time Ed was in the backyard he did something totally insane. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before heading out back. "What're you doing?"

There Ed stood, in the center of the yard, tugging at their clothesline from the feeble tree they'd harnessed it to, making more space for…

"Okay, it took me about four trips to the store, but I think I got enough supplies for this," Edgar explained, pointing to a circle of brooms sticking out of the ground like half-assed scarecrows, "I've been doing some tactical research on Youtube. I think we need to start practicing Judo."

"Judo? What's with the circle?" How his brother managed this with one hand was beyond him.

"It's the first formation. If we're fighting a group, predators will try to surround us on all sides," Edgar explained slowly, as if Alan didn't speak any damn English. "Once we master this, we'll move on to the next one."

"Come inside and eat." He should be used to this by now but he really wasn't.

"Good idea," Edgar nodded sagely, tapping his chin with his false hand as he crossed his other arm under it, "eat first so we can prepare for our first night of training. We might even be able to take on the big ones soon." By 'big ones', he was of course referring to the bikers who only let Ed and Alan live because they were in a good mood that night.

Alan didn't think they would ever be 'ready' to take them on. Getting lucky with a few passers through didn't mean they could take them on. Especially since there were five of them.

"Just eat." He dropped a bag of fast food on the table.

Edgar fished into the bag and yanked out a burger wrapped in white paper with a big grin on his face, "this is the life, Alan. Brothers. Fighting evil at night, preparing for that final battle during the day. Sooner or later we'll be able to finally convince Sam to get back on board with it, too. Then we could just deal with them like that!" He snapped his greasy fingers for emphasis after heartily taking a bite out of his burger.

"I don't think Sam will ever come back to hunting, he has a family, and we're getting old, Ed."

His brother scowled at him, wiping a bit of mustard from his chin with his shirt cuff, "so you think we need to train harder?"


	2. Bars and Brawls

Paul scratched at the surface of the table in their corner booth, using a small pin knife to carve an elaborate pornographic stick figure. They had to wait until the bar cleared out more before him and Marko got their pick of the litter. Better to wait until the ones without any friends were left. Even then, everyone was so damn clean and stuck-up, it almost wasn't worth it.

"I miss the old dive bars," Paul remarked, glaring at the table.

"I like the clothes though." Marko said, looking at a young woman in a barely there dress.

Paul shrugged, "the food's too clean. Like that one right over there," he pointed to a guy with several tattoos on his neck and arms, "sure he looks the part, but I bet the asshole hasn't even had a single dose of heroine in his life. This city's too clean now."

"We could bring our own drugs and dope them up without them knowing before eating them." He suggested.

_That _was a fun idea, but it still didn't change the fact that the world—_their _world was changing in ways Paul didn't like. Hell, even the cops were doing their jobs more often these days.

"Do you have any on you?" Paul asked hopefully. Maybe they could have some good old fashioned fun.

"Ummm," Marko started patting himself down, "shit, no, you?"

"No," Paul replied sullenly, "just a couple joints." He paused, "you think we can find some around here?"

"You seen anyone high around here?" Marko asked, raising an eyebrow, "not even the drifters take the hard stuff anymore."

"Hey, good shit never goes out of fashion!" Paul exclaimed, maybe a little too loudly, "we just gotta sniff it out, man." He tapped the side of his nose with a bright grin, "some is close. I feel it."

Marko rolled his eyes, "go sniff it out, Fido!"

Paul huffed, "alone? Fine, asshole, you find the guinea pigs."

"You're the one who said you could smell it, I'll go with you." He got to his feet as he spoke.

"You never want to do the work," Paul remarked, side-stepping a pair of chattering club-goers and just barely avoiding their apple-tinis. Maybe they should just order a round on the house and spike them that way, he pondered, following the familiar scent of salt and ammonia. It wasn't as easy when he wasn't vamping out, some of his senses were duller, but he knew that smell anywhere.

"_There's some coke near the bathrooms_," Paul whispered giddily in Marko's mind. Some things really didn't change after all.

Marko grinned, following close, _"can you tell how much?"_

"_Enough," _Paul replied, setting his sights on a middle-aged guy trying to dress like he was half that. Christ, he was probably Michael's age. Kind of a trip putting their youngest pack member in that sort of context. Except this guy had a sagging gut, a too-tight jacket, and the look of a creep on the prowl. Perfect.

Marko grinned, walking up to the guy and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "hey, man, how's it goin'?"

The guy jumped a little, startled by Marko's slick approach, "uh, do I know you, kid?" He asked, just as Paul made his approach to the man's other side, though not wrapping his arm about him.

Paul whistled, "hey, heard you've got some nose candy. You selling?"

"We're buying if you're selling." Marko grinned.

"I, uh, what?"

It was nice to know they could still provoke a nice healthy sense of fear in humans without trying too hard. "C'mon man, we heard you're the guy. You are the guy, arentcha?"

"How much you want?" He brought his voice down to a low hiss, "I'm not getting arrested 'cause you assholes talk too loud." He grew a backbone fast. Good. Fuck him.

"Well shit," Paul cursed, "you don't have to be a dick about it. We can go somewhere quiet if you want. I've got a wad of cash bigger than a Dino dick I need to burn fast." He emphasised this with a quick pat of his slick leather coat pocket. The only concession he'd made with the others in changing was switching to a nice coat and cleaner jeans.

Marko had kept his patchwork coat, they couldn't get him to get rid of it but he had cut his hair. No more braids. The man let them lead him into a secluded corner. Dinner was served.

Paul checked to make sure they were clear, thankfully a curtain hung from the ceiling, tied up as if it were a window drape, shielding their backs as he quickly grabbed the dealer's neck and squeezed so he couldn't scream while Marko dug in.

"Leave some for me," Paul hissed.

Marko grunted into his throat, giving one last swallow before pulling back, "go for it." He licked his lips, checking the man's coat, looking for the drugs.

They'd gotten good at minimising the mess when they needed to, even if it was less fun. Biting the right place, keeping a handkerchief at the ready once they'd had their fill, and maneuvering their quarry into a bathroom stall with a jacket over his head to make him look as if he was stumbling drunk alongside them.

"Did you find them?" Paul asked, letting go of the douche bag and letting him collapse beside a toilet.

Marko grinned, holding up two baggies, "this look about right?"

"Yup," Paul agreed, hardly able to contain himself, but now came the hard part. "How the hell are we going to trick people into snorting this?"

"Umm, shit, any ideas? Dwayne would have an idea." Marko grumbled.

"Dickhead's flying solo tonight," Paul grouched. They knew for a fact Michael and David were off somewhere without him.

"You think anyone's dumb enough to think it's pixie stix?" Paul suggested.

Marko looked around the bar, "yeah, that muscle bound guy at the bar or the blonde bimbo in the corner. Their thoughts are dumb enough."

Paul grabbed one of the baggies, eyeing it thoughtfully, "not enough to do a lot of damage, but man if we just pushed someone a little, played a head game…" This would be so much easier with acid.

"How about the guy then, tell him its performance enhancing shit?"

"That could work," Paul admitted, nudging the dead guy with his foot, "or we could just do a few lines ourselves and lock everyone in. See how many we can score until someone starts to notice the dead bodies." He paused, "then Davey would get pissed we didn't share. Yeah, let's do the jock."

Marko grinned, grabbing the baggie and sidling up to the bar next to their chosen play toy, "hey, man, you work out?"

The guy at the bar gave him an all-too-familiar look. Something between bleary-eyed irritation and disgust. "Fuck off."

Paul hopped onto the other bar stool beside him, grinning at Marko's act.

"Aww, man, don't be like that. I'm here to help. I got something that can change your life, make things a million times easier to get what you want."

The drunk jock scratched at the back of his neck, just below his neatly-trimmed hairline, "like what?" He asked, giving Marko an easy in.

He grinned, "this." He slid the baggie toward him, "all you gotta do is breathe it in."

"Breathe it in?" The guy asked, picking the baggie up and squinting at it, "how's that work, huh?"

"New stuff," Paul chimed in, "I've heard about that. Didn't think it hit the scene here yet."

"I got first dibs, thought I would share it with my friend here." He motioned toward the human, "you'll never get another chance like this."

The jock took a good, large gulp of beer. Shit, if this guy lived much longer, drinking like that he wouldn't have his six-pack for long. "So," he nearly belched, lowering his beer mug and wiping at his chin with a shirt cuff, "what's it cost?"

"First one's free."

"And how do I know I can get more if it works?" He asked, suddenly seeming just a little bit more sober. A good deal always seemed to wake people up. Good thing this guy was an idiot. Marko had a good eye for finding these people.

He pulled out the second bag, "see, more."

"But more than that," he pressed again, holding his hand out, "I'll try it out now, but if I need more, I wanna know I can get it."

Marko grinned, dropping a bag into his hand, "breathe it in hard."

Paul nudged the guy's shoulder just before he drew the baggie to his face, tugging it open, "dude. Not out here. You want people do think you're snorting coke or something?"

Marko guided him to a secluded corner, not the one they left the body in, "do it here, man."

Judiciously, Paul stayed behind at the bar, spinning around on his stool just to watch the show. If he followed, the jock might get suspicious that they were in on something together, if he somehow grew a few brain cells between now and when he started snorting. Their head games had an even wilder edge to them when someone was on a drug or just a little drunk. The combination made for the best kinds of parties.

A sour-faced girl walked up to the bar and glared at the empty seat the jock had left behind, "seriously, Jack?" She hissed under her breath, looking around, "that asshole better not expect me to track him down and give him a ride home."

Paul glanced over at her, "boyfriend?" He asked, as if it really mattered.

"Yeah, the asshole always does this!" She glared at the bar, "have you seen him?"

"I'm sure he's somewhere around here," Paul replied, making direct eye contact. It was always easier that way. "Hey," he began, keeping his voice calm and clear, even over the sound of the music, "you should give him a piece of your mind when you find him. Really rail into the jerk. Teach him a lesson."

She nodded, "you're right, I'm gonna give that sonofabitch a piece of my mind."

It was hard to contain his laughter, but he managed by turning towards the bartender with a smile, "anything good on tap, bud?"

They played games with their prey all the time. Especially when they were all together, feeding off of each other. Back before Michael had joined them, they'd steered a group of assholes into petty crime and stupid shit just to see who could get someone to commit murder. David had gotten the closest before they lost their patience and slaughtered the whole group on the beach while a horrified Michael watched.

"Depends on what you like, we have a wide selection of craft beers." That was the other thing Paul hated, you couldn't just order a beer anymore. Everything was some sort of special reserve or some shit like that, it wasn't just beer.

"Cheap," Paul clarified, glancing back at the girl. Marko by now had left the jock behind and was casually strolling back to the bar.

"What're you gonna make him do?" Paul asked.

Marko grinned, "just wait and see."

The moment the man came into the light the woman spotted him, striding over and slapping him hard enough the sound could be heard over the music.

"Oh, shit, I might not have to do anything." Marko laughed, grinning wildly.

Paul snickered, "they got an audience now."

The couple in the corner were indeed drawing a bit of a crowd, and some of the serving staff looked as if they were trying to get as far away from dealing with them as possible. Paul glanced back at the bouncer near the door and caught his eye, giving him a mental nudge to remain still.

"You piece of shit, who the fuck do you think you are? Getting totally wasted and then expecting me to cart your ass home? How is that fair? I'm done with your bullshit!" She shouted, poking him in the chest with a manicured nail.

He lashed out, grabbing her hand and squeezing, "don't push me, I'm not in the mood," the jock warned, giving her a good shove. The onlookers stepped aside, giving them room.

"Damn it, Andy, do something!" The bartender snapped at the club's unresponsive bouncer.

"No, no, Andy, don't go spoiling the fun." Marko grinned.

She pushed forward, slapping him across the face, her nails leaving bloody cuts across his skin, "don't touch me."

"Feisty," Paul joked, excited by the trace scent of blood. A few people edged towards the group trying to figure out a way to calm them, which was going to be a buzzkill if they didn't do something about it.

"Outside!" The woman hissed, "now!"

Marko leaned back, "no need to get involved." He soothed the crowd, "just enjoy the show."

Paul barely managed to hold back a cackle, gleefully hopping from his bar stool and nodding towards the couple as they made their way towards the back exit, "want to finish the show outside?"

* * *

If a man's best friend is a dog, then why couldn't a monster's best friend be a beast from the pits of the underworld? That's what Dwayne told himself on the few nights they split up on their hunts. It didn't happen terribly often, mind you. Only when they were planning for something big later in the week. They wanted to have a party at the hotel to celebrate finishing the house. It'd be better if they didn't draw too much attention twice in one week.

Thorn barked up at him, the white hellhound was impatient. He didn't like waiting for Dwayne when he stopped to wax poetic. He was sure that was exactly what the hound thought.

"So where do you want to go tonight, huh?" Dwayne asked, "cafe? Park? Walk the strip?" He paused, "or we could check up on Paul and Marko. They always leave a bad mess behind. Leftovers."

Thorn barked, tail wagging happily at the thought of seeing Paul and Marko.

"Alright," Dwayne relented. He had to admit, morbid curiosity was driving him, but also the sense of needing to be with pack. None of them ever really enjoyed being separated for too long. Safety in numbers.

"How about you lead the way," Dwayne whispered, kneeling down to give the hellhound's coat a good ruffle, "find their scent."

He could do it himself. In fact, it only took a thought to find his brothers, though Michael and David could be a challenge at times when they didn't want to be found. Still, it gave the hellhound a sense of pride to use his instincts. Thorn barked at him once before tipping his head back and scenting the air before trotting off down the boardwalk, tugging at the leash Dwayne was forced to use on him when they went into a crowded area. Most laws were to be flouted but leash laws were there for a reason and Dwayne didn't want to have to explain why some yappy dog got eaten by his companion.

For those who knew how to look, it was easy to find any of the lost boys. The smell of blood that clung to them was unmistakable. Especially on a feeding night. Dwayne wasn't surprised when he noticed Thorn making his way through the crowd of the boardwalk towards tenth street, where all the cheapest bars and clubs had been parked over the years.

Dwayne missed the good old days when cheap actually meant something. He liked the taste of the younger crowds, but it was getting more difficult to find easy meals. Everyone seemed to be accompanied by a dozen nuisances.

Thorn stopped in front of one of the bars, tail wagging. He let out one bark, looking back at Dwayne. They had arrived.

If he had to guess, judging by the sound of raucous music behind the door, either Paul and Marko hadn't caused any trouble yet, or they'd already gone outside to finish whatever they'd started. "Through or around?" He asked Thorn, allowing the hellhound to make the choice for him. Thorn tugged him toward the door, growling softly. "Through it is."

When Dwayne pushed the door open, the first thing he heard aside from the nearly deafening music were the shouts of a red-faced man with a neatly-trimmed red beard stabbing a much taller man in the chest with his finger, "damn it, Andy! I told you to get your ass over there and do your job! The cops aren't here yet, and I don't want a crime scene in my fucking club!"

"Let go of me, you prick!" A woman shouted, and Dwayne's eyes followed the source of the drama in the club. It wasn't hard to find, everyone else had filtered towards the walls and tables to give an angry couple some room to fight. The typical yuppy type. The tall, fit-looking man had a hand firmly wrapped in the woman's thick blonde hair, actively pulling and twisting her head down with his balled fist.

The man pulled hard, throwing her into one of the tables, "you stupid bitch, where do you get off treating me like that? Don't I give you everything?"

This seemed a little more intense than what Dwayne had come to expect from Paul and Marko. At least in public, at any rate.

"_Losing control, are we?" _Dwayne reached out to the familiar mental path between his brothers, noting how erratic the man was acting when the woman in his grasp began to struggle, screeching and flinging her hands at his face as she tried to scratch and pull at him. Bystanders were, disturbingly enough, frozen in place.

_"Well, see, how were we supposed to know crack would do that to him?"_

"_History repeating itself," _Dwayne replied dryly, slipping through the crowd towards the bar where Marko and Paul waited.

"Tried to get them to go outside," Marko said with a sour expression.

The sharp smell of blood filled the air and Thorn growled softly, tail wagging, as he looked at the couple.

"Oh, oh! First blood goes to…" Paul laughed, trying to see who was bleeding.

"She bit his nose!" A girl in the club shouted, somehow managing to break through the deafening music.

Dwayne looked over at the couple, frankly impressed Paul and Marko had managed to keep so many members in the club so relatively calm, even when the guy had wrapped his hands around the girl's neck, blood streaming from his face where she must have bitten him pretty hard.

"Who's got the guy?" Dwayne asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bar.

Paul raised his hand, "I think I'm gonna win this time."

"Maybe," Dwayne admitted, morbidly fascinated by the display. Until, that is, the club owner broke a bottle over the guy's head and shoved him off of the girl. Dwayne smirked, "hope you don't mind if I join in."

Paul glared at him, "I was winning."

Marko grinned as the woman clawed at the owner's face, leaving bloody cuts.

"What the fuck?" The man shouted, putting a hand up to guard his face, "I was saving your life, you psycho!" Distracted, he didn't notice the jock recovering from the blow to his head, stumbling forward and punching him in the back of the neck while blood still poured from his wounded face.

"This is making me hungry," Dwayne remarked, running his tongue over his upper teeth to make sure his fangs weren't in evidence. He had self control, but it didn't hurt to check.

"Wanna eat the bar? I think Thorn's hungry too." Paul questioned.

"This is between us, not you!" She screeched.

It was tempting. So tempting. They hadn't had this many people under thrall in a long time. It'd be incredible, except for one little detail. "David and Michael aren't here," Dwayne pointed out, "they'll be pissed they missed out."

Marko rolled his eyes, "their loss."

Paul heartily agreed, "just say I did it and we're all good."

* * *

Michael didn't really think he had a hot temper, per say. No more than anyone else. Okay, so maybe once in awhile he'd get just a little ticked off when David got the upper hand at a game with one of their prey, but the bastard cheated. Tonight was no different, so who'd blame him for glaring daggers into the blonde's back when the girl they'd been playing around with nuzzled close beside him on the bridge. Never mind that she was wearing Michael's jacket to protect her from the 'cold'. They were pretty fucking close right now, Michael noted, fidgeting irritably with a lighter and quickly looking away when David looked back at him with that smirk of his.

David leaned close to her, his eyes locked on Michael as he kissed her neck. The bastard, he was fucking with him and it pissed him off.

"You win," Michael relented, his voice a carefully controlled growl, "so just get it over with." The chick would have no idea what he meant, but he was seconds away from snapping if David didn't cut the shit.

David grinned at him before sinking his fangs in deeply. She barely even screamed, once his hand was sealed firmly over her mouth. His anger subsiding, Michael let the scent of fresh blood wash over him. It never got old.

Michael licked his lips, focusing intently on the sight. It made him think about the taste of David's blood on his lips. The night they'd fought, when he thought David had showed up to kill his family. It was a dirty trick, being pushed against the beam, just inches from being impaled on his grandpa's deer horns. He'd planned to do that to David, then the bastard bit his own tongue and force-fed Michael a taste of what he was fighting. It only took a taste.

David pulled back, licking his lips slowly, "there's plenty left for you." His voice came out as a low purr, golden eyes locked on Michael's, "eat up."

No sooner had he spoke, Michael was beside him, tearing into one of the girl's wrists, her skin puncturing as easily as rice paper. He never took his eyes off David. The finished her together, eyes locked together as they shared the last dregs of life from her veins.

When they had finished and discarded the remains over the side of the bridge, Michael's irritation had vanished. He hadn't forgotten to take his jacket back, either, just barely managing to tug it from her shoulders before she fell.

"That one took three weeks," Michael remarked, watching her disappear quickly in the fog below. "Thought this one would fall for me this time."

David smirked, "I have years of experience on you, darling."

Michael rolled his eyes, "and here I thought Paul and Marko were the man-whores in our pack." They we're lucky they were already dead, no telling what some of their questionable choices over the decades could've given them.

"I'm picky, you should know that by now, takes more than a pretty face to start my engine."

"Start your _engine_?" Michael couldn't help but laugh, offering his lighter to David, "good thing you don't need to use any pick-up lines or I'd have beat you at these games the first day."

David glared at him, taking it and lighting a cigarette, "yeah, yeah, just admit that I'm prettier than you and we're good."

"Yeah, sure," Michael replied sitting down at the edge of the bridge and quietly watching curls of smoke drift from David's lips. He didn't have any clever comebacks, and calling himself 'just as pretty' would just take this to a weird place. "Pretty bastard," he finally retorted, a little wryly.

David smirked, "you know it." He offered him the cigarette, "what do you think of this whole renting the place out thing?"

Michael took the cigarette in one hand, patting a spot beside him with another to urge David to sit, "I think it's a little weird," he admitted, "we live in a condemned building underground, though, so who am I to judge? It's just sort of going to be hard not to leave a paper trail if we kill any of the renters. Real hunters, and I mean the kind who actually know what they're doing might be able to track us…"

"We'll just have to be careful about who we eat." David replied, sitting beside him.

"It'll be interesting," Michael admitted, "something new." He took a slow pull of the cigarette, tipping his head back and letting the smoke float into the air above him. "Why? You having second thoughts?" That wasn't like David.

He shook his head, "no, no second thoughts, just wondering who or what we're going to dig up by doing this."

"At least it won't be Max," Michael remarked after a long, contemplative silence between them. He had a wry half-smile as he leaned his arms against the railing in front of him, elbow touching David's.

David let out a snort, pressing his elbow to Michael's in return, "come on, let's see if little Sammy has any bites on the ad."

"So soon?" He had to admit, it was hard to resist giving his little brother a hard time once in awhile. Maybe they'd use the window tonight just for some extra fun.

"Why not? I'm feeling rather impatient, need to do _something_."

* * *

Sometimes, Sam thought about trying to convince his mom to leave Santa Carla with him. They could just pack their small world into the car and drive. Just like when they first came there, except for one thing. His brother. It wasn't easy juggling his intense sense of fear that the same person he'd grown up with and at times had been his best friend was now a blood-drinking predator with a mega sun allergy. Sam wasn't stupid. He also wasn't naive enough to think he or his mom were in the right here, but they just couldn't let him go. Or do what gramps used to say and forget about him.

Tonight, more than ever, Sam was seriously reconsidering the car option. He could just suggest a road trip, maybe mom wouldn't figure anything out until they hit the state line. For all he knew, he was leaving a trail for the cops to find him and blame him for whatever the hell Mike and his shit-sucking friends had in mind with the old house. Not like they needed the pocket money.

He already had one bite on the house, a rather big bite. Sam was seriously debating whether or not to try and talk the guy out of it when a pair of leather gloves hands closed over his shoulders. He froze, staring at the distinct lack of reflection in the computer monitor which meant that those hands weren't Michael's.

"Hey, Sammy, I see someone already wants to come for a little visit." David.

Sam did his best _not _to have a panic attack, focusing on just grabbing his cup of coffee as if a vampire looming over him was as normal as his old dog nudging against his lap. "Just you tonight?" Sam asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

"Nah, Michael's here, saying hi to your mom." He replied, his fingers flexing against his shirt.

"Th-that's good." Sam didn't turn back to look at him as he spoke, "yeah. This one guy wants to book the house all summer. He's actually offering more than the asking price, which is really weird." Probably planning to trash the place.

"Sure, why not?" He could _feel _David smirk behind him.

"Will you have it ready by next week?" Sam prompted, taking a long, slow gulp of coffee. He heard the sound of boots scraping the floor behind him.

"Good news?" Michael asked.

"It's ready now. Dwayne does good work." David looked over at Michael, "we got a taker."

Sam picked that moment to glance back over his shoulder. It had never really been spoken, but he knew exactly what was going on between those two. The creepy looks said enough.

"I don't know why you're doing this," Sam said, keeping his eyes focused on a particularly interesting spot on the wall. His brother and the blonde dickhead were just weirding him out.

"David's call," Michael said with a casual shrug, looking at his brother with a casual smirk, "I'm just along for the ride."

"Thought it might be fun. Easy food." David said with a shrug.

Sam placed his coffee cup on the table as gently as he could manage. Hard to do when his hands were shaking so bad. "I can't just-Mike, I know what you are. I wish it was different, and I'm trying to work with you because you're my brother, but I can't be a part of…" did he really have to say it? Shouldn't they at least know that he wasn't a psychopath? Inviting innocent people looking for a nice vacation to their deaths was unimaginable. He should have just said no in the first place.

"I didn't say we were gonna eat _all_ of them." David made it sound so normal, so acceptable.

"You eat even _one _person, and not only are the cops at my door, but it means I'm responsible!" Sam snapped, somehow despite all odds finding the strength to let his voice rise to an almost pre-puberty octave.

Michael rolled his eyes, flopping down onto the foot of Sam's bed, because they were in his bedrooom and office right now, "relax, Sammy. You're always so uptight."

"You gotta learn to live a little, you're gonna stress yourself into an early grave."

Sam glared at them, "do you even remember what it's like to give a shit about dead people?" He paused, "and by dead people, I don't mean you guys. I mean the ones who don't come back and give their little brothers hell."

David raised an eyebrow, "I care where I leave the bodies, does that count?"

He didn't even know what to say to that. Frustration overwhelmed him enough that words failed, and all Sam could do was let out a muffled combination between a huff and a grunt of frustration. He slumped down in his chair, nursing his cooling coffee. "Just don't kill anybody. Play weird head games, but don't kill them. Please?"

Michael grinned at David, "that could be fun too."

David looked thoughtful, "we can try that, good idea, Sammy."

"Really?" He could hardly believe it.

Michael nodded slowly, leaning back and locking his hands behind his head, "we can make a game of it."

"Sure, should be fun. Don't worry so much." He patted him on the shoulder, "so, who wants the place?"

He'd have to accept that was the best they were willing to do for him, and it was at least better than having himself be an accessory. "The guy's name is Donovan. He's got two others staying with him. No pets."

"Sure, let him rent it, three of them should be fun to play with." David plopped down next to Michael.

"Not that I'm complaining, but where's everyone else? Are they camping outside or torching my car?" Sam set his coffee down on his desk, thankful that the fearful squeak in his voice had faded a little. It always took him a few minutes getting used to having serial killing monsters in his bedroom.

David tipped his head back, closing his eyes and sniffing the air, "well, they're setting something on fire. Not your car though."

"Shit!" Sam jumped to his feet, knocking his cup from the desk in the process as he tore towards his bedroom door.

Michael's obnoxious laughter followed, "chill the fuck out, he's joking."

"They're not even here, they're in town." David laughed.

"Sam?" Lucy called out from the hallway, "do you want to ask if Michael and David are staying for dinner?"

Sam scowled. They could choke on whatever or whoever they planned to eat tonight for all he cared.

"Nah, thank you though, Mrs. Emerson, we appreciate the offer." David said, eyes locked on Sam, "we should be heading out. Let us know when this Donovan guy is showing up."

Clenching his jaw, Sam very patiently hissed through his teeth, "sure. I'll tell Mike tomorrow at dinner."

David grinned, "am I invited this time?"

"Do what you want," Sam snapped, making it a point _not _to say the words.

Michael sat up, grinning at his brother, "we'll keep Paul and Marko on leashes in the yard. Don't want them having any accidents."

"Dwayne can read and watch them." David agreed, "can't just leave them on their own."

"Great," Sam replied, gesturing towards the hallway, "you taking the normal way out, or-"

Before he could even finish, his window burst open, and faster than Sam could blink David and Michael disappeared into the night.

"Every fucking time," he mumbled under his breath. At least they didn't break anything this time.


	3. Guests

Donovan picked through the snacks with distaste. They had stopped for gas and Gabriel was determined to get them something horrible to eat. Of course his partner demanded he partake as well, much to his chagrin.

"Gabriel, how can you eat this-stuff?" He asked, picking up a bag of chips and looking at it.

"It's good," Gabriel defended, grabbing a bag of Bugles and passing them off to their servant. Clarence was completely nonplussed by the odd cornmeal finger trumpets Gabriel seemed so fond of. "You just need to try more. There's junk food out there for everyone," Gabriel added, nudging Donovan's shoulder, "I keep saying you're a Twinkie man. Why don't you try one?"

He moved over to the so called pastries, making a face of disgust as he picked up the snack in question. "Very well." He passed it off to Clarence, "is there anything else you want me to try?" He adjusted his jacket with a sigh. They needed this vacation but Gabriel's definition of road trip was quite different from Donovan's.

He was sure that any locals they saw would never think the two of them were mates. Donovan was dressed in slacks and a button up shirt while Gabriel was in jeans and a rock band t-shirt. They couldn't look more different. They were classical jazz and tasteless modern crap Gabriel called 'hair metal'. Night and day.

"How about some root beer?" Gabriel suggested, teasing, "old geezers love that stuff." Anyone else would have their tongue removed at such a remark, but Donovan indulged the former hunter with the luxury of making poor jokes at his expense.

Donovan narrowed his eyes, "I am _not_ old." Sure, he had been alive for thousands of years but he didn't _look_ old and isn't that what really mattered?

"Will this be all, master?" Clarence inquired, cradling his already well-filled hand basket. How Gabriel thought they could finish everything in the remaining twenty minute drive to their destination, Donovan hadn't a clue.

"Yes, Clarence, I believe so." He said, heading for the door, "don't forget the gas, as well." He needed some air, the store smelled rather heavily of corn chips.

Once outside, with Gabriel still lingering in the store, the night air greeted him as an old friend would. Not surprising. Donovan had been here once or twice, over a century ago now. It was honestly quite a surprise to find that not only was his pompous acquaintance Max leasing out his own property through the internet, but using an alias to do so. He'd always been the foolish sort to his his own name despite the fact that it only made him easier to track down.

"You're new," a gruff and odd-looking man strode up to him, shoulder-length hair peppered with gray here and there made all the more obvious by his ragged bandana. "Passing through?"

He looked over the man, taking in the missing hand and the camo pants, "visiting." He replied, "is there something I can do for you?"

"Name's Ed," the man held out his hand. He smelled even worse than the convenience store junk food. There was something not altogether right about him.

Did he really want to give his name to this, heathen? It would only be polite and he was nothing if not polite. "Donovan." He looked at the proffered hand and decided against shaking it. He didn't even look worth eating.

"Ed!" Another man shouted from one of the gas pumps, "get the damn sodas!"

Ed looked back at his companion and then shrugged as he returned his attention to Donovan, "listen, you seem like a nice guy. Here's some advice for you-get out of Santa Carla. It's not safe here."

Donovan raised an eyebrow, "I will be more than fine. I am quite capable of taking care of myself." Thankfully Gabriel chose that moment to join him outside. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, Clarence is paying," Gabriel replied, noticing the Ed fellow standing in front of him. Ed gave Gabriel a quick once-over, then nodded sagely as if he had a great thought strike him that wasn't meant to be said.

Donovan looked between them, "is there something I should know?" He asked, looking at Gabriel.

Ed pulled open the door, standing there for a moment with his back turned to Donovan. He seemed to think he looked rather mysterious as he turned his head just enough over his shoulder for them both to see him in profile, "the night life here's for suckers." Without another word, he went inside.

Gabriel shook his head, "that was weird."

"He told me it wasn't safe here. He is an odd creature." He wasn't sure he could call him human. "What was that look he gave you? Do you have any idea?"

"Nope."

Clarence opened the door, offering two large grocery bags to Gabriel, who happily took them.

"Masters Donovan and Gabriel, it shouldn't take me long to refill the gas tank. Would you like to wait in the car or at one of the picnic tables behind the store?"

"We will wait in the car. I don't want to encounter that-man again." He said, heading for the car, "he isn't even worth eating."

"I wasn't aware you were that picky," Gabriel replied, following Donovan to the car, "you said we're gonna need to be careful here, but you never told me why."

"Other vampires live here, ones not like us, we must be respectful if we don't want to come into conflict with them." He said, getting into the backseat, "as for that, thing, I don't like corn chips."

Gabriel climbed in beside him, taking his treasure trove of junk food from Clarence and closing the door. "Corn chips aren't that bad." He paused, "but neither is deodorant."

"Just don't start eating them on a regular basis." Donovan stated, eyeing the package of twinkies skeptically. "After we settle into the house we're going to have to pay the so called master of this city a visit, it should be interesting."

* * *

Paul jabbed David in the side with his rolled-up newspaper, "hey, we made it to the front page. Long time since we did that, huh?"

"I can't believe you actually burned it down." David said, looking at the article.

"Marko started it," Paul insisted unconvincingly, "I only helped."

Marko gave Paul a playful shove, "asshole."

Dwayne judiciously remained silent, not even pretending he hadn't taken part in the activity. He might be the responsible one, but that was only in comparison to Paul and Marko. None of the Lost Boys were entirely responsible or mature. Where was the fun in that?

David looked at Dwayne, "and you just stood back and roasted marshmallows?" They really needed to try _not _to draw attention to themselves but they enjoyed their fun too much.

"I made sure nobody got out," Dwayne said simply. "Didn't want to make a scene."

Michael shook his head, keeping his arms firmly tucked together. They were all still suspended from their perches as they chatted. "Wish we could've been there."

David shook his head, "well, I'm glad it turned out, sorry we missed it, but messing with Sam was fun. Tonight we gotta go see our visitors."

"So no biting?" Paul asked, not for the first time.

"Not even a little?" Marko couldn't help but chime in.

David shook his head, "not even a little." He agreed.

They all felt it. The surge of strength. The sun had finally dipped far enough below the horizon that they could leave the hotel safely without being cooked. Dwayne was the first to drop, scooping his boots from the ground and smoothly sailing back through the long cavern that led to the lobby. In the past few decades they'd hidden their sleeping area far deeper in the sunken hotel where even the most experienced climbers would avoid. Marko's close shave with death was enough to remind them how nasty a staking could be.

David could feel the anticipation rising at the thought of going outside, of seeing what had fallen into their little trap. He dropped from his perch, following the others out into the night.

Their flight brought back memories of pestering and being pestered by Max, and David still couldn't quite believe it took so long to get rid of the bastard. Just as they reached their destination to greet their guests, however, a sudden tension shattered their excitement.

"Do you feel that?" David asked softly, eyes locked on the house as they walked up to the gate.

"One of them is human," Dwayne replied, keeping a hand on Paul's shoulder guardedly. Better not to let their wildest member do anything stupid before they sized up the situation.

Michael frowned, "what's going on?" He wouldn't know what it was like to meet one older than his own pack. The stragglers who wandered into Santa Carla now and again were rarely even as old as him.

"There's one young one and one that's fucking old. I've never felt anything like it." David said softly. He looked at Michael, "our guests are vampires."

Without even missing a beat, he replied simply, "that sucks. So what now?"

"We greet them." David said softly, "and let Dwayne do most of the talking. I'm afraid I might piss the guy off and he's strong." He hated admitting this next bit, "and I'd lose in a fight."

That set Michael aback, "_I've never heard you admit that before," _he whispered in David's mind, the humor of the statement completely missing.

David glanced at him briefly, _"whoever is in there is ancient, older than Max, older than fucking Jesus. I can't take that."_

"They know we're here, man," Paul said, shaking his head, "nothing's happening yet. So maybe they're cool."

They couldn't wait forever. Finally David stepped forward, knocking on the door, Dwyane and Michael at his right and left flanking him.

The door opened silently, which was a surprise. They must have oiled the hinges. In front of them was a young man with neatly trimmed brownish-blonde hair, a cardigan sweater, and a look of genuine interest on his face, "the masters said you had just arrived. I take it then that you are the landlords, sirs?"

"Yeah, that would be us." David said, looking over the human, "I'm David and this is Dwayne and Michael."

Paul and Marko had fallen behind them, thankfully smart enough not to piss David off by making their own asshole introductions.

The man bowed his head, stepping aside, "they are waiting for you in the dining room. Would anyone like me to take their coats or jackets?"

David shook his head, "no, thank you." Being polite was hard. To a human, and in the presence of other vampires. They were never polite by any stretch of the imagination.

The human led them, while Michael fell in-step as close to David as he could manage, "I don't like this," he whispered.

"As long as we stay polite we have nothing to worry about, this is our territory after all." He whispered back.

In the dining room, two men sat together, one of them slender with short black hair and a cup of coffee, while the other had reddish-blonde hair tied back at the nape of his neck and piercing green eyes, and David knew just by looking at him that he was the old one.

The redhead smiled at them, "ahh, did Max send you? He was never one to come himself, not for anything."

"Asshole's dead," Paul not-quite retorted, crossing his arms. Dwayne glanced at him wordlessly and then back at the redhead.

"We killed him," he said flatly, "David is the head vampire here." It wasn't something they ever felt the need to say, but the fact was always blatantly obvious.

The man inclined his head slightly, "I'm sure he deserved it."

That response actually surprised David, another vampire saying it was ok for progeny to off their makers was practically unheard of.

"Allow me to introduce us. I am Donovan, the man beside me is my mate, Gabriel, and the servant who greeted you at the door is Clarence." He said, locking eyes with David.

"I'm David, my mate is Michael and my second is called Dwayne. Paul is the loud mouth and I think Marko is still outside." He glanced back toward the door. Couldn't blame him. They had no way of knowing there weren't others coming.

"You guys wanna sit down?" Gabriel offered, nodding to the other chairs at the table. Neither Michael, nor Dwayne, nor even Paul would make the first move. They all waited for David to decide.

David sat across from Donovan before motioning to the others to sit. "You knew Max?" David asked, eyes locked with the redhead's.

Donovan nodded, "he and I crossed paths a handful of times. I was actually hoping to meet him on this trip. He never knew when to not do something stupid and honestly I was looking for an excuse to kill him."

Gabriel's lip twitched slightly, "thought we were just taking a vacation."

Donovan broke eye contact with David to look at his mate, "that was the main part of it but the desire to kill someone was important too, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity."

"_Cute," _Marko sneered in David's mind, strolling into the dining room, "figured it was safe to come inside. Did I miss anything?"

"Marko, meet Donovan and Gabriel, our _guests_." David said, not looking away from them. "What do you want?" Dwayne glared at him, silently chastising him.

"We are merely visiting, no harm intended." Donovan said calmly.

Marko dropped gracelessly into the last remaining empty chair, kicking back his feet, "just getting a little bored, don't mind me," he threw up his hands.

Michael snorted, "you are such an ass."

Donovan raised an eyebrow, all those gathered could immediately feel his disdain for such a display of impropriety.

"We've got some things to do," Dwayne lied, his gaze focused on Marko. David would have to deal with him later. Getting on their guest's bad side pointlessly was just stupid. Even Paul was on his best behaviour.

"Please, let me know if we can be of assistance while visiting your territory." The ancient vampire said the words calmly, almost ritualistically, and for the first time David wished Max had taught him more.

Playing nice, however, was exceedingly difficult for all of the boys. Doing it for longer than five or ten minutes was like playing with fire, and any minute Paul was likely to blurt out something even ruder than Marko.

"We should go," Dwayne suggested to David quietly, "dinner plans, remember?"

David nodded, "we'll let you know." He said, getting to his feet. "Hope you have a nice stay." That was probably one of the nicest things he'd said to an outsider he wasn't planning on eating. Maybe he was growing up. Or just in a good mood.

* * *

"Beer?" Sam held out a can from the garage refrigerator. It was a little late, but he had a good hour and a half before his brother showed up for dinner and this was the only time Alan could spare to help him clean out the garage.

Edgar was busily sweeping in the most ineffective process Sam had ever seen, like a cartoon character recycling the same back and forth movements, moving debris back to where it started and possibly spreading it even more. 'Functional adult' was a foreign concept to the man Sam tried to consider a friend.

"Yeah, thanks." Alan said, taking it, "Sam, I don't know what to do with him anymore. He's like a child." He kept his voice soft enough that Ed couldn't hear him.

"I can identify with that," Sam replied, thinking about his own brother. The main difference besides the psychopathic killer bit being that his older brother was literally never going to _be _an adult. "Did he skip out on another job interview?" Sam asked, keeping his voice just as low.

He nodded, taking a drink of his beer, "he says he doesn't need a job, that hunting down bloodsuckers is his job. I've tried to tell him that doesn't pay rent but he just won't listen and I can't find a better job because he won't get even a basic one."

"You need to give him an ultimatum. You're too soft on Ed. Isn't he older than you?"

He nodded, taking another drink, "I just don't know what tod do."

Sam shook his head, grabbing another beer out of the fridge and popping the top. He let some of the foam settle before closing the fridge and taking a long drink. "Maybe," he suggested as he lowered his can, "maybe you can help him set up something online. You've still got those boxes of old comics in storage, don't you?" They'd had to shut down the store back in 2008, and with Ed being—well, Ed, saving up the money to lease out the space again or even getting a loan for it was pretty much impossible.

"I could try that, I'd probably wind up doing all the work, though." Alan sighed, "he's hopeless. I think he needs a good scare or maybe his mind wiped, does that work? Can your brother do that?"

Sam shrugged, "dunno. I don't like to ask about that stuff around mom. Better to just pretend he's as human as we can, even if we know it's a lie. You really think scrambling Ed's brains would fix him?"

"It can't hurt. I dunno how it could be worse. At least if he lost his mind I could get disability and assistance for him." Alan sounded so jaded, it was surprising and kind of depressing.

"You should sleep on that. If Mike _can _do it, he's not gonna care if Ed comes out in one piece." Truth be told, he was still amazed his brother and bloodsucking cohorts hadn't already slaughtered Ed and Alan by now. Well, Alan had given up hunting but Ed…

"Yeah, I'll do that."

"He'll be over for dinner tonight," Sam said, _very _careful Ed didn't overhear, "I can bring it up. If you're serious."

"Yeah, please." Alan said, downing the rest of his beer.

"I'm done!" Edgar called out, placing his broom against the wall. He had, against all odds, figured out a way to sweep even more dirt into the damn garage than he'd swept out.

"Good job, Ed!" Sam yelled, "go take a nap. You've earned it."

"Justice never sleeps," Edgar said gravely, slinking out to his and Alan's car, where he proceeded to yank open one of the back doors and throw himself inside for what Sam could only assume was in fact a nap.

"He knows we have a guest room," Sam said wearily.

Alan sighed, "I'll help you clean properly while he's asleep."

"Some day a group of scientists are gonna win the nobel prize with your brother's brain, dude," Sam remarked, surveying their work. They were just this close to removing the permanent smell of his grandpa's old workshop.

Alan let out a derisive snort, "yeah, maybe when they find a cure for stupid."


	4. Cure for Stupid

They left their bikes with the others on the boardwalk tonight, choosing instead to take advantage of the fog and fly to Sam's house. Paul, Dwayne, and Marko remained in the lights of the latest Summer fair to cause any kind of trouble they could find.

"That was a mind-fuck," Michael remarked darkly, just as his boots hit the freshly-cut grass of Sam's front lawn. Just meeting those unexpected guests at the house had him wound up, tense.

"I don't think they're going to be a problem but it makes me nervous too." David said, glancing toward the driveway, "I know what would make us feel better." He said with a smirk, seeing the wonder twins shitty truck sitting there.

He could feel it. A slowly beating heart. Hell, Michael even smelt the familiar odor of corn chips and old broccoli. "Figures Sammy would have those assholes over for dinner while we're here." He thought his little brother had given up the bullshit hunting schtick years ago.

"More fun for us, only reason we keep them around after all." David said, strolling toward the truck, "come on, you can do the honors this time."

That was a rare treat Michael couldn't pass up. They just had to make sure nobody in the house knew they were here yet so they wouldn't spoil the fun. "Been a while since we've looked in this guy's head, what do you think he's got floating around in there?" He mused, leaning against the side of the car and peering into the back window.

"Nothing good, probably some vampire hunter bullshit. What else does he dream about? I mean, last time it was a whole Dracula's Brides thing." He shuddered slightly in disgust at the memory.

Michael managed not to gag, "yeah. My mom was in that one." Ed's thing for Lucy went beyond weird and right into creepy. For a vampire to find anything creepy was a feat in and of itself.

"Since I was the one that got to fuck with that one, it's your turn to go in first."

His strengths had always been more in the physical realm, but practice over the years with David allowed Michael to hone his skills of screwing with people's heads. It wasn't difficult to lean back against the side of the car and focus on the sleeping idiot inside, reaching for his thoughts. It was sort of like having his own daydream, he just pictured Ed's mind opening up to him and it did. Still fully aware of the very real world around him, Michael only had to close his eyes to see the remarkably fake one of the mortal dream.

A swell of dramatic music greeted him, as if he'd walked right onto a film set in the middle of a climactic scene, and he might as well have judging by the huge bonfires and tribes of scantily clad women rushing about in the night around him.

"Shit, it's one of those," Michael mumbled under his breath.

"One of what?" David pressed, it was obvious he didn't want to go in until he knew.

Michael followed one particularly large group of women to the center of the camp, smirking as his target slowly came in to sight. "Edgar the Barbarian," he said aloud for David to hear him. "Cute."

David sighed before joining him in looking at the scene, "pathetic."

Edgar was dressed in a fur loincloth with a leather strap across his chest and boots on. Stakes lined the strap and there was a large sword on his back. His hair was even longer than he usually kept it, and silky enough to require upwards of at least a bottle of Pantene every hour. He had both his hands; that was one thing the boys never got tired of when they did this, taking his hand over and over again in new and interesting ways.

There were so many options here. They had to make it quick, though, or risk dealing with his family getting on his case if they figured out what he and David were doing. Not that Michael had any sense of guilt or morals left in his body, those feelings had long ago atrophied after his first kill. He just didn't have the patience to humor Sam or his mother more than necessary.

Michael focused his attention on a group of women kneeling at Edgar's feet with trays of food and treasures, including a massive vampire's skull encrusted with jewels. Seriously, what the fuck was that about?

"My master," Michael compelled one of the fantasy women to speak, "the great monsters are coming to destroy our camp. We entreat you to help us!"

Ed laid a hand on her head, smiling down at her, "worry not, my fair lady, I shall deal with them, I won't even break a sweat!" He sounded so sure of himself, the pompous ass.

Michael would have gagged if he had to talk for this, but luckily he had one of Ed's dream nymphos to do it for him. "Tell us first, my great and powerful master, how you defeated the boys of the lost—uh, night _tribe."_

He puffed up his chest, looking so smug and proud, "staked 'em right through the heart, put up a good fight but they were no match for me."

"Even the handsome one with the brown curls?" She asked in astonishment, and Michael couldn't help his sly grin as he glanced over at David.

"He was the worst of 'em, tried to make us think he wasn't a killer like the rest of 'em, of course I took him down too."

David raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly at Ed's words.

"What would you do if they came back, oh mighty Edgar?" She asked, clutching dramatically at her breast.

He puffed up his chest, "worry not, fair lady, for I shall protect you, all of you, from any creature that comes!" He declared boisterously. Edgar Frog wasn't capable of anything less than pompous at any given moment.

Just then, the women began to shriek and rush about, some of them somehow defying physics and losing their clothes in the process in the manner of any sleazy middle-aged weirdo's dreams.

"My lord, oh great and powerful leader of the tribe of Frog - - " the woman who had been talking to him intoned, "- - they're coming!"

"The boys of the lost night tribe!" One woman shouted, dragging Edgar's companion behind her. Nodding sagely, Edgar stood up from his animal hide-covered throne, hefting a large stake that might as well have been a pylon over his shoulders.

"Show yourselves, beasts!" Edgar bellowed, and Michael turned around curiously to see what exactly what about to show up. It would have struck terror into the heart of absolutely no one on the planet.

"Holy shit," Michael barely managed to hide a laugh.

Four large vampires that sort of resembled Michael, Paul, Marko, and Dwayne stood behind an incredibly short David with a thick bleached monobrow.

"You're a dwarf," Michael said, pointing out the obvious, "a literal ankle biter."

"Fuck. I'll show him a fucking dwarf, maybe I'll take a goddamn leg this time." David snarled, coming out of the dream. Michael was quick to follow, wondering what David was going to do. The blonde put a fist through the window of the truck and dragged the human out and onto the ground. "You should be very, very, afraid of me, little man." He snarled, eyes golden and fangs bared as he looked down at the human, "I can take more than your little hand."

Edgar, for his part, was doing what any reasonable person might in his situation and screaming, blood dripping from one of his ears where the broken glass had cut his skin. Lucky for him Michael was old enough to have some measure of self control.

"Ed!" Alan shouted from inside, "shut the hell up!"

David stood over him, glaring down at him, "shut up, I have more control than to just kill you but you've pissed me off. You think you're not afraid of me, I think you're wrong. Keep in mind that next time you piss me odd I'm going to make _you_ a little shorter."

Gripping at David with his one good hand, Edgar Frog's eyes widened, "what'd I do? We leave you alone. I didn't break the deal!"

Michael rolled his eyes, "it was just a dumbass's dumb sex fantasy, David." He _did _like seeing the blonde vampire spill blood, but Edgar wasn't worth the trouble.

"If I catch you with another fucking dream like that I'll turn _you_ into a dwarf." He said, stepping back, "come on, let's go make nice with your family."

Michael smirked, leading the way to the front porch. "Hey, you gotta give it to him. You still looked pretty tough."

David glared at him, "don't mention it again and especially don't let the others know."

Edgar Frog remained by his car, and he probably knew not to tell his brother what happened to the car in front of Lucy. Maybe.

"Should we knock?" Michael asked, approaching the front door. They needed no invites, it only took one time, but teasing his brother was still fun.

David smirked, "of course, gotta be polite."

In their excitement over taunting Edgar and teasing Sam tonight, they very nearly forgot about the guests they'd accidentally invited into their own home.

Michael raised his hand, rapping sharply on the wooden frame of the screen door.

As if he'd been waiting beside the door, Sam immediately yanked it open, "so you really brought him."

David raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I wouldn't come? When have I ever not come in the past twenty years?" David and Michael hadn't become a 'thing' until well after Michael made his first kill, years after.

"Hope springs eternal," Sam remarked bitterly. He'd always been mouthy, and his divorce had made him even worse. Michael could imagine David would happily rip out his little brother's tongue if he let him and still stick around for dessert later.

"Can we come in?" Michael asked his brother, grinning.

Sam grudgingly stepped aside, "of course _you_ can, Mike." And thus began the dance of how long it took before David's goodwill dissolved into nothing because Sam knew how much it would piss Michael off if David killed him.

"_Is it going to be a short dinner tonight?" _Michael asked him, eyeing David thoughtfully and waiting for his response. They were here to relax and Sam's behavior was one more strike against David's mood on what could easily be considered a shitty evening.

_"If your brother can't get his head out of his ass then yes. Feel free to explain to him why picking a fight with me tonight is a bad thing."_

"Sam," Michael told his little brother very patiently, giving him a warning look, "invite him in."

Sam sighed heavily, "come in, David." He said, motioning them in. It was a small, but bloodless victory.

"Michael?" Lucy called from the kitchen doorway, smiling as she stirred the contents of a mixing bowl with a large spoon. Alan Frog passed her with a nod and gave the vampires a wide berth.

"Better get going," he told Sam quietly.

Sam nodded, "I'll see you later, call me." He headed out toward the truck and his shaken brother.

David stepped inside first, "why, thank you, Sammy, for the invitation."

"Oh, hello David," Lucy greeted, far more convincing than Sam at playing the role of a good host. It was nice that he hadn't managed to traumatize their mother in the years he'd known her.

"Promised we'd come," Michael remarked, grinning at Lucy.

David smiled at her, a genuine smile, "always nice to see you, Lucy."

"I was just mixing up the batter for dessert. Is lemon cake okay?" She looked between them both, "can you eat lemons?"

"Mom, we can eat anything," Michael assured her, not for the first time.

"Bet you can't drink holy water," Sam mumbled, walking into the kitchen.

"We can in this house." David said smugly.

"Guess we should have an outdoor barbeque next time," Sam retorted.

Michael didn't need to exchange a glance with David to know Sam was irritating him, in fact he could actually feel it.

"Sam, set the table and be nice," Lucy advised, setting her mixing bowl on the kitchen counter as Michael and David approached the doorway.

"And here I was going to warn poor little Sammy about something but now, well, he can fend for himself if he's going to be like that." David said, glaring at the blonde.

"David," Lucy chided, "you two need to learn how to talk to each other. I swear, sometimes it's like the two of you feed off of each other's bad moods."

Michael was inclined to keep his mouth shut on the subject, instead reaching for a celery stick on the veggie try Lucy had set on the counter for snacks.

"Yeah, I'm in a bad mood and he's just adding to it." He replied, glaring at Sam's back as he set the table, "he should know better by now."

"We've got guests at Max's old place," Michael remarked, taking a bite of celery after dipping it in a healthy dose of ranch, "he doesn't like them."

"You don't either." David shot back.

"Guests?" Sam asked, turning to face them, ignoring the forks he was putting out.

"I didn't know you were letting people stay there, are they squatting?" Lucy asked, sounding a little concerned. Very likely knowing she was wrong, or they wouldn't be there any more.

"Vampires," Michael clarified.

"AirBnB." David said at the same time.

"More vampires?!" Sam squeaked as if he were twelve.

Lucy's face was unreadable, and it almost seemed as if she hadn't heard them as she pulled out a baking dish from beneath the kitchen island counter, "I can see why that might be upsetting. Do you know each other?"

"He knew Max but I've never met him until now. He's old." He shot a warning glance at Sam, "you don't wanna mess with him. He's not like us, he's a different kind of vampire."

"Was he rude?" She asked, concern leaking into her voice.

"Marko was," Michael replied, "neither of those guys were though."

"Marko should have kept his mouth shut, we're lucky the guy was so polite, it could have ended badly."

Knowing his mother wouldn't have any idea how to deal with their little problem, and any words of comfort might serve to frustrate David even more, he decided to go ahead and put an arm around his mate's shoulder, "how about we grab our chairs, huh?"

David nodded, moving to the table and sitting, leaning back in his chair, "yeah, let's do that." He paused looking at Sam, "part of me wants little Sammy to try something with Donovan."

Sam scowled, behaving himself and preserving his own safety a little longer by grabbing the pitcher on the table to fill everyone's glasses, "hope you like tea."

"Love it," Michael replied, "can't wait for dinner." He looked at David, "you think mom's serving any Chinese food?"

David's grin grew, "oh, I do hope so."

* * *

Alan sighed heavily, taping the black plastic bag over the broken window of his truck. Enough was enough, he had to stop Ed and soon, before his truck was completely destroyed, this was the third window that had been broken because of Ed.

"Bloodsucking commies broke it," his brother repeated for the hundredth time, "figured you didn't want me to make a scene by ripping their throats out with my bare hands, Roadhouse style," Ed emphasised this with an eagle claw karate chop gesture, clumsily smacking his hand against the dashboard. He hid his whimper just as poorly.

"Ed! This has gone on long enough!" He slammed the door shut, glaring at him.

Ed huffed, "you went inside, man. What was I supposed to do, huh? Leave a murder scene in Sam's front yard?" He paused, "there's a time and a place, Alan. You need to control yourself. I'm seriously concerned about your mental health."

"Ed, they took your hand, and honestly you're lucky that's all they took." Alan said, sighing heavily, "you need to face the facts. You can't kill them."

Ed clumsily slipped out of the truck, cradling his one hand, "so don't even try?" His tone was oddly defeated, as if somehow just for an instant he was able to comprehend reality.

"Yes, give up on hunting vampires, live a normal life!" Maybe he was actually getting through to him for once.

"Alan, you're asking me to just throw away decades of—" He didn't even seem to know the right word, "—work!"

"I'm asking you to move on with your life!" He shot back, frustrated.

He sputtered, shoving his prosthetic hand in Alan's face, "you want me to forget what they took from me?" His voice very nearly cracked, a hint of actual emotion bleeding into his delusional bravado. "You promised we'd stick to this. Monster bashing bros for life! We even thought about getting a tattoo, remember?"

"It was a mistake, Ed, starting this. You lost your hand and we have nothing to show for it." He was trying to stay calm, trying to be the voice of reason, but Ed made it so hard sometimes.

Edgar ran his good hand through his hair, turning away from Alan and stomping across the yard, "I can't believe this. Why all of a sudden are you giving up? What did you and Sam talk about when I was sleeping?" He turned back to face his brother, a good several feet away now, near the poorly built training dummies in the backyard.

"Reality, Ed, we talked about real life, things we have control over. We can't take them out, we're just not good hunters."

It was too dark to see Ed's face, but the silence was telling. If Ed ever shut his mouth, it was because he was trying to think. Sometimes Alan could swear if he did it long enough, smoke would start to drift out of his ears. "I'm gonna go stay at that empty house, got some thinking to do," he grumbled, stalking towards their shoddy work shed where he kept his old bike from high school.

That empty house was Max's but Alan supposed it was better he go there than to try and stakeout the hotel. David and the others had been rather charitable with regards to Ed's continued living status and Alan didn't want that goodwill to wear out.

"See you in the morning." He said, closing the door and heading to bed, there was no use trying to convince Ed of anything now. Honestly, there was never any use. Ed was Ed. Sam was fucking lucky.

* * *

David stretched as he walked into the hotel, "fucking with your brother really improved my mood, Mike." He said, heading for his wheelchair.

"Surprised he still falls for that shit," Michael replied, feigning irritation so unconvincingly that he seemed on the verge of laughter, "too bad for him mom likes making spaghetti all the fucking time." He sat down on the lip of the fountain closest to David's wheelchair, fishing a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket to offer one to the blonde.

The others were kicking around somewhere in the back of the hotel, quickly making their way closer to the lobby now that their leader had returned home.

David took one, looking up at the others, "well, well, aren't you just three little storm clouds?" They looked grumpy, to say the least. Marko especially, given that Dwayne had taken it upon himself to remind him not to make David look bad in front of their guests.

"They've gotta go," Paul said, matter-of-factly as he slammed down hard enough on their couch to potentially crack the wooden frame.

David raised an eyebrow, "oh? I mean, sure, the Frogs are annoying but they have their uses."

"Not them," Paul snapped, "fuck, man, you know who I'm talking about. Those guys," he waved his hand vaguely in the air.

"Our out of town visitors? What do you suggest, Paul? You know one of them is older than us by a lot. We can't kill them, putting aside the whole age/power issue, it would look bad for us to be offing visitors to our territory." David growled in return, "so, what's your bright idea?"

Paul dug into his pocket and pulled out a flask, cracking it open with an agitated twist of his wrist. The scent of blood and a combination of drugs filled the air. Scents most humans wouldn't even pick up, and most definitely wouldn't survive drinking. "I dunno," Paul replied, "I just don't want 'em here."

"Nobody does," Dwayne reminded Paul, sitting down beside him, "just have to wait them out."

"How long did they rent it for?" David asked, at least that would tell them when to expect the interlopers gone.

Michael shrugged, "Sam said they'd be here maybe a week. They asked about doing it a bit longer if they like the place."

"Let's just hope they don't like it that much and will be gone in a week. I guess we could refuse an extension, right?"

"You think they'd want to?" Michael replied with another question, "they're probably just as happy we're here as we are about them."

David closed his eyes, leaning back and rocking his chair slightly, "I doubt they'll stay."

The comforting scent of their home kept them calm, or at least a simile of it. When their guests finally left, they'd have to make short work of eliminating the unfamiliar smell in that house. They might even have to secure the place and crash there for a few nights to make sure it worked. Vampires despised any signs of those who weren't fact. Maybe it was a self-preservation instinct.

"What if they do?" Marko finally spoke up from his perch on the couch arm.

David shot him a glare, "we'll just have to try to convince them that they don't want to."

"Seems like Santa Carla is perfect for those domestic types now," Dwayne remarked, "no more gangs. Police are practically doing their jobs now. We need to mess the place up, bring back the old Santa Carla."

"In less than a week?" Michael asked, incredulous. "There's no fucking way."

David grinned, "I'll take that bet."

For a solid minute, maybe two, the hotel was silent. Even Marko's pigeons didn't stir, as if they were tensely waiting for something to happen.

"You serious?" Michael leaned forward from his perch at the fountain, a sly glint in his eye, "you want to make a bet?"

David smirked, "yeah, I bet we can undo the, what do you call it?" He looked at Dwayne.

"Gentrification." He supplied helpfully.

"Gentrification of Santa Carla." David finished.

Paul cackled, and it was no surprise that he was passing his flask to Marko, "I'm willing to give it a shot. Should be a hell of a time either way."


	5. Silk Ties

Donovan wrapped an arm around Gabriel's shoulders as he settled on the couch, a book in hand. His mate was watching some comedy that Donovan just couldn't follow. He much preferred a good book to the continuing saga of five strange humans attempting to run a bar.

"It's quiet here." Donovan said absently as Gabriel leaned against his shoulder.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Gabriel asked, a little too distracted for Donovan's taste. Television was one among many technologies he had come to dislike. It ruined a good conversation.

"Partially but it's too calm, too quiet. What do you think?" He pressed.

Gabriel shrugged, "we're trying not to make any big scenes, aren't we?"

"What about a small one? Aren't you getting hungry? Do you want to go out? Maybe sink those beautiful fangs of yours into something?" He ran a thumb along his bottom lip, trying to get his attention away from the TV.

Gabriel reluctantly tore his eyes away from the television screen, giving Donovan a half-smirk, "you don't think it'll piss the locals off?"

Donovan smirked, "it's not like we're going to leave bodies hanging from the pier, now are we?" He leaned forward so their lips almost touched, "aren't you curious if Californian blood tastes different than blood from home?"

Settling into the crook of Donovan's arm and relaxing, Gabriel couldn't seem to help rolling his eyes, "I'm pretty sure it tastes the same. Do you want to bring them here or dine out?" He had thankfully set the television remote aside now.

"Let's dine out. Maybe some rich idiot has a nice yacht we can turn into a ghost ship."

"There seem to be plenty of people with money around here," Gabriel mused, "you told me it was a dive."

"It was, last time I was here." He brushed his fingers through his hair. "Someone's watching us." He said with a scowl, looking toward the large picture window.

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up, "I guess someone wants a show," he teased.

Donovan chuckled softly, bending to kiss him, "I want to taste you." He whispered against his lips, eyes flicking to the window again.

There was a muffled cry outside, oddly familiar, yet somehow it escaped Donovan's memory whoever that might have been.

Gabriel stopped just shy of unhooking Donovan's belt buckle, "I guess they changed their mind."

Donovan chuckled, "that doesn't mean you have to change yours."

"I thought you wanted to go out?" Gabriel asked, feigning surprise as his fingers drummed on Donovan's belt buckle.

Donovan leaned closer, "a little fun to whet our appetite first."

Clarence should know well enough not to disturb them at this hour without being bid, so neither were concerned about any further interruptions.

"Who do you think that was?" Gabriel asked, finally slipping Donovan's belt off and discarding it on the ground with little fanfare.

"I'm not sure, it wasn't any of our hosts but they were familiar nonetheless."

"We don't know many people here yet," Gabriel pointed out, "and it wasn't Clarence." He slowly unbuttoned the top button of Donovan's trousers.

Donovan slid his fingers through his mate's hair, "perhaps that boy at the store, the strange one." He said thoughtfully.

Gabriel snorted, "Boy? The man looks like he's gotta be in his forties."

"Manchild?" Donovan questioned, lifting his hips slightly.

Shaking his head, Gabriel tugged at Donovan's trousers, "something like that—hey, how do you think he found us? Was he just randomly looking in windows?" He'd become more frustratingly preoccupied with talking than anything else.

Donovan glared at him slightly, "I don't know, nor do I truly care, my easily distracted mate."

Gabriel smiled, genuinely, his fangs catching the dim living room light as his fingers played over Donovan's exposed stomach while he drew up his mate's shirt. Donovan kicked his lips, gazing down at him before running a thumb over his lower lip.

"I love the way you feel." He said softly, "show me how wonderful you can be, my mate."

"Sure," Gabriel agreed, looking down at him, "but first-" he reached for the remote, "I've got to finish this episode."

* * *

Vampires. Shit sucking vampires were staying in that house. Ed had to tell someone. Had to tell Alan. Surely he would help now. No, Alan was being a dick tonight. Couldn't hack it now that he knew they were probably about to have their last big fight. Maybe Sam would help? Hard to say. Maybe the other shit suckers didn't know, maybe they would want to kill them for invading their territory or some shit. There were too many maybes. He had to find Sam.

It took him longer than he would have liked to ride his bike to Sam's. The moment he got there he scrambled off it, nearly tripping as he dropped it in the driveway, the only thing that saved him were his well honed reflexes. In a flash, he was knocking at the door.

"Sam! Open up! I know you're here, your car's here!" He shouted.

A light came on through one of the upstairs windows. Then another. It took Sam ages to finally answer the door, and when he did you'd think he'd been having a bad night.

"I was sleeping, Ed. So was mom. What?" Sam asked, running a hand through his hair and trying to smooth back stray wisps of graying blond.

"Shit suckers, Sam! In the old house!" He hissed.

"In Arizona? What?" Sam asked, stepping aside to let Ed in. Not that he wasn't going to enter anyway, they had big things to talk about. Stakes. They needed stakes. Holy water. Supplies!

"No! Max's house!" He hissed, frustrated by Sam's lack of understanding. This was important and a dire emergency. He stepped inside, "come on, we need weapons, stakes, holy water."

"Ed, it is after midnight," Sam told him very slowly. He hated that tone Alan and Sam took with him sometimes, "let's think about this, alright?"

"What's there to think about?! I know what I saw!" He couldn't help it if he raised his voice. Why couldn't Sam see?

Sam gestured towards the kitchen door, "if you're really serious about this, then sit down with me. We can have some coffee and talk about a plan," he was still using that stupid condescending tone.

Ed growled, plopping into a chair, knowing Sam wasn't about to listen to him otherwise. "We have to act now!"

Sam shook his head, "come on Ed, even you know it's a dumb idea to go after bloodsuckers in the middle of the night."

Ed grumbled, glaring at him, "fine, but we gotta do something before they gang up on us with the other bloodsuckers."

"Alright, bud," Sam began, walking over to his drip coffee machine he kept plugged in beside the kitchen sink, "tell me everything. Beginning to end."

"Alan and I got in a little, minor, fight, and I went to the old house to get away for a bit. Someone was there! Two dudes, the two dudes I warned at the quickstop the other day. They had fangs, were talkin' about eating people!" He couldn't help it if his voice went up in volume as he talked, Sam needed to understand!

Sam began to fill the coffee pot with water from the tap, not turning back to face Edgar as he spoke, but bobbing his head as if he was listening, "did you actually see them eat anyone, though?"

"What the hell Sam! I saw the fangs first! _Then_ they said they were gonna go eat someone."

Sam looked back at him over his shoulder, "they could've been role playing. You absolutely sure they're not just really kinky?"

Ed glared at him, "I'm not stupid, Sam, don't treat me like a kid. You're as bad as Alan. Ya know what, fuck you guys, I'll take care of this on my own." He said angrily, getting to his feet. If they wouldn't help he would have to save Santa Carla himself.

"How are you gonna manage that with one hand?" Sam snapped, filling the reservoir in the coffee maker and slamming the lid shut.

"I'll attach a stake to it. I'm gonna do this Sam, with or without you." He snapped back, heading for the door.

"I won't stop you," Sam told him, "but remember how you lost that hand first. It was a warning."

He could never forget how he lost his hand but that didn't change anything. He had to _try_.

"We're not gonna come and save your ass if some shit-sucker takes a bite out of it this time, and I mean it," Sam added, just to rub it in.

"Fine." He shouted, walking outside and slamming the door behind him, he had a vampire to hunt.

Sam remained behind, spooning grounds into his coffee maker and muttering curses under his breath. There was no way he or Alan were going to sit this one out, even if they wanted to.

* * *

Michael peered down at David, reluctant to climb out of bed and tear his eyes from the sight of him as vulnerable as he could possibly be. "We could always put off going out until tomorrow night," he suggested, watching smoke curl from David's half-finished cigarette.

David shook his head, "nah, better we do it now. What? Do you suddenly not want to go out?" He asked, looking up at him.

"I do," Michael insisted, "but this is fun too." He grinned. "They're already waiting outside though, aren't they?" _Assholes._

David nodded, chuckling softly, "of course they are." He nipped his bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.

They were in a much better mood now, all of them. The idea of bringing back the old Santa Carla was enough to even cheer Paul up. Never mind their unexpected guests.

Michael reluctantly snatched his shirt from the ground, pulling it over his head, "are we splitting up?"

"Groups of two, maybe you and me in one and the others in another. Dwayne can keep them in line." David said, grabbing his own shirt.

"He could," Michael didn't doubt it, "but will he?"

David shrugged, "do we want him to?"

Michael's silent smirk was enough of an answer as he hurriedly finished getting dressed. They wouldn't be able to eat too much tonight, just fuck with a few people's heads. Pick out the right targets and watch them go nuts.

"Ready?" Michael asked finally, straightening his jacket.

David shrugged on his coat, "always ready, princess." He smirked and took off, heading for the calls of their brothers.

Michael scowled after him, not to terribly fond of David's egomaniacal post-pillow talk.

"I'm gonna pick a big fucker, someone nice and stupid!" Paul crowed as Michael left the hotel and made his way towards them where they'd already circled their bikes.

"And do what with him?" David asked, straddling his bike.

"Get him to crack a few skulls, start a police chase," Paul explained. It was ambitious but not impossible. Some minds were more pliable than others. Michael was a little embarrassed to admit that when he was human, he fit into the more susceptible category.

David looked thoughtful, "that could work, what about you, Marko? What're you going to do?"

Marko shifted in his seat, leaning back and looking pensive for a moment or two. Anyone who didn't know him would very likely find it cute, given how young the little imp appeared. "Prostitute turf war," he decided, nodding, "yeah. Prostitute turf war."

David raised an eyebrow, "and how many prostitutes are left in town?"

"There's a few," Marko insisted, "you can scrub the shit off the sidewalk, but you can't get rid of everything, man."

Their leader shrugged, "Dwayne? Anything good in mind you want to share or want it to be a surprise?"

Dwayne smirked, crossing his arms, "I'll just kick around and make sure none of you need any back-up if you miss a mark. Keep an eye out for you."

David smirked back, "let's get going, the night won't wait forever."

For Michael's part, he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do tonight. Maybe get a few punks to trash some houses, or maybe something bigger. If Marko and Paul somehow pulled off their own stunts, his competitive nature made him want to top that.

Michael climbed onto his bike, and they were off, pushing themselves faster than any human could. The rides were incredible, but having actual control of the wind around them helped.

They pulled into their usual spots on the boardwalk before going their separate ways. David had faith in Dwayne's ability to keep a leash on Marko and Paul. This left David and Michael to find their own sport for the night.

"Do you have anything in mind?" Michael asked, now that they were separated from the others.

"I was thinking we could start convincing some of the teens to start up a new gang. Slow corruption rather than an instant brawl."

"Didn't you do that before?" Michael asked, referring to the Surf Nazis. When they'd forced him to watch them kill most of the fuckers off, Michael had been horrified. He'd missed on the fun.

"Yeah, but that was years ago, no more gangs but us in Santa Carla. We need some new fun."

"Where we gonna find them?"

"Could go to the arcade, get some of those idiot teenagers to go do some stupid shit."

Michael rolled the idea around in his head. It was sort of like cheating, pushing an innocent idiot over the edge. There was no moral qualm to it for him, though. There weren't many people who were genuinely good. When they fucked with people's heads, they were really only making suggestions. Not that he had any problem with manipulating the one or two humans out there who did have a genuine need to care for others.

"Alright," Michael agreed, "let's do it."

David smirked, "let's see, what should we have them do?" He looked up at the sky in thought, "gotta start small, can't have them kicking puppies right out the gate."

They were making their way through the crowds, slipping easily across the boardwalk as ghosts might, making their way towards the arcade. A new one, actually, come to think of it. Nostalgia for the past wasn't just a thing for vampires.

"What about stealing something?" Michael suggested, "that's easy enough."

"That should work. Maybe some of that tagging shit too. We could design a logo for their new gang."

Michael grinned, "something stupid. Like a bullseye with a number sign in the middle."

"Perfect, make them look like fucking idiots."

"They already do," Michael pointed out, "they're teenagers."

"Valid point." He stepped into the arcade, taking in the sights and sounds and smells.

The scent of popcorn and sweaty teenagers invaded their senses, making Michael cringe slightly. David assured him that his issues with strong smells would fade over time but in thirty years it felt like he was just turned yesterday as far as his sense of smell was concerned.

There wasn't as much beer floating around as he might have expected, but maybe the people who ran the place actually gave a shit about serving minors. That was going to change very quickly if David and Michael had anything to do with it.

"You see any good targets?" Michael asked, drawing an arm over David's shoulder as a friend or a brother might, though it was mainly to gather the older vampire's scent to block out the hormonal stink around them.

David glanced around the room, smirking when he saw a group of six teens grouped around one machine, four boys and two girls. "How about them? Got enough hormones, going to be defensive and start a fight with minimal effort on our part."

They looked like the kind of kids Michael would've hung out with when he was actually their age, back in Phoenix maybe. It was harder to remember these days, or even what it really felt like to just be human.

"No snacking, right?" Michael asked.

"No snacking. We can eat later." He affirmed.

As much trouble as the others might cause tonight, they needed to be more subtle. Start smaller. Michael reluctantly drew away from David and focused on one of the smaller boys, who was busy examining the phone in his hand.

"Think he needs a new phone?" Michael asked.

"Oh, yeah, one of those fancy ones like Sam has. His parents won't get it, he's gotta get the money _somewhere._"

Even as they discussed it, Michael worked on the kid's mind, grinning when the teenager lowered his phone with a sudden look of disgust and nudged one of his friends. He mumbled something and the friend looked a little surprised, shaking his head.

"Gotta work on the other one," Michael pointed to the other teen, "doesn't look like he's onboard."

David nodded, looking at the girl next to them. She was pretty, looking like she could convince the others, and was close enough to hear them.

Teens were a little easier to persuade to do stupid shit than their older counterparts, but harder to control once you found your way into their heads. Michael nudged his target to start following a woman chaperoning two younger children, her gigantic designer purse clearly visible with a nice phone sticking out of one of the side pockets.

"Do we want them to get caught?" Michael asked.

"Nah, I got the lady. Gotta let 'em get away with shit to get this started." David replied, making the woman ignore the kid coming up behind her.

They weren't going to be able to make too much of this situation tonight. The rest of the boys were going to get more done in the short term, but it would be fun to watch how this project developed.

"We should get them to swipe some liquor somewhere," Michael suggested, "start this off with some stupid tattoos. See if we can get them all in one night."

David grinned, "let's get started.""

* * *

Gabriel licked his lips, the fresh adrenaline from their kill still rushing through his dead veins. They hadn't quite meant to pick someone so important, but the guy had it coming. What kind of mayor cruises the streets at night looking for cheap tail?

"You missed some," Gabriel pointed out, noticing a spot of blood on Donovan's otherwise pristine white dress shirt.

The elder vampire sighed heavily, rubbing it absently between his fingers, "well, that's never coming out. I suppose I'll have to burn this shirt. Perhaps Clarence can save it."

"What are we gonna do with him?" Gabriel asked, pointing to the dead man sprawled on the hotel bed beside them in leopard print underwear.

"Perhaps we should put him on display, show this town who they elected into office."

Gabriel laughed, "you don't think it'll piss off the locals?" Of course he wasn't referring to the humans.

"What do you think they would do? If they are truly upset about it we can go home."

He shrugged, "they seem just as bored as you are. Maybe they'd get a laugh out of it. You wanna take that chance?"

Donovan smiled, "yes, I believe we should take that chance."

Gabriel sighed contentedly, stretching his arms above his head, "so we could just leave a tip to the police, or drag him somewhere like that merry-go-round on the boardwalk, or hang him from the docks…" the possibilities were endless.

Donovan slid his arms around him from behind, pressing his lips to his ear, "I do so enjoy the idea of him spinning around bound to a wooden horse."

Relaxing against him, Gabriel smirked, "the headlines should be fun to read."

"I look forward to seeing what they come up with. What shall we use to tie him? Silk scarves? Make it appear as some strange sex game gone horribly wrong?"

"We could do that—" Gabriel paused, "—how about silk ties? We could gag him, too. Give him a rhinestone collar."

Donovan chuckled, "oh, I do so like that idea."


	6. They Might be Vampires

David stood with his arms crossed over his chest looking at the carousel. It was an interesting tableau, one he would have honestly liked to have a hand in himself. The mayor was strung up, bound to one of the horses, blind folded, collared, and quite dead.

"I kind of like it." Marko said, cocking his head to the side to get another angle.

"I think our _guests_ had some fun tonight, don't you?" David asked, eyes still locked on the corpse.

"I wanna know where they got that collar. Did they already have it? What store did they get it from? Is there a matching leash?" Paul asked.

"Why, did you want one of your own?" Dwayne asked, smirking at the display.

Michael shook his head in disbelief, "Santa Carla's going to have a hell of a news day tomorrow." They'd yet to learn of the success the others had in their little adventures tonight, but coupled with that club fiasco, there was no doubt about it that things were going to change in a big way.

"I was thinking you might want one for Mikey." Paul grinned, elbowing David in the side.

David grunted, growling at him, "what did the three of you do?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Marko met a couple of nuns and got them to put on a strip show," Paul informed him with a laugh.

"Not before Paul got the priest to have some fun at our favorite biker bar," Marko added.

"They didn't do shit, they tried to pick a couple of fights and got chased off by some holy rollers," Dwayne completed the story, much to the chagrin of the hopeless pair.

"Looks like our guests had way more luck than you two." David said with a smirk, "maybe we should have a little contest, pay our guests a visit and see if they want to get in on it."

"How about a party?" Michael suggested, "we'll even waive the damage fees if they win."

David nodded, "I like that idea."

On the other hand, if the boys could win whatever contest they came up with, what sort of reward would their visitors offer? They were already having an all-you-can-eat buffet. Those domestic types weren't generally as creative as these two clearly were. Not in David's experience. He couldn't even imagine old Max being half as fun.

"I'm sure they'll think of a suitable prize for us if we win, which we will, won't we boys?"

"If we don't, we can always cheat," Marko replied, biting on the thumb of his glove.

"Not a chance. We'll kick their asses," Paul added with a grin.

"Five of us and two of them," Dwayne pointed out, "so the odds are in our favor."

Michael shrugged, "I just want to have a good time."

David grinned, "we're going to have a fantastic time, trust me."

* * *

"This is your only choice," Edgar Frog told himself gravely, staring into the hand-held mirror he'd brought with him. He was in this for the long haul, so in order to maintain his sanity, he'd realized the mirror was an essential tool. He looked at the pup tent he'd put together under the dock and nodded sagely. Staying out on the beach to catch the bloodsuckers disposing of their victims was a brilliant idea. _Not that Sam and Alan would think so. _He thought bitterly. He was alone in this, he knew it, and he accepted it but that didn't change the fact that he wished he had some company, some backup.

Whatever happened to the bad monster bashers? Edgar Frog sat down in the sand, tossing his mirror aside. Maybe he _was _getting old. The tide was almost up to his feet.

"Better move it back a bit," he mumbled, slowly climbing to his feet and grabbing the pup tent with his one good hand and dragging it away from the water. If only he had a cheeseburger right now. A cheeseburger and his backstabbing brother. Without the backstabbing part though.

There was a heavy sigh from behind him followed by a familiar voice, "Edgar Frog," the cop had it out for him, always had since he was a kid, "how many times do I have to tell you that you can't be out here?"

"Someone's gotta keep Santa Carla safe, Travis," Edgar told him grimly, dropping the corner of his pup tent for emphasis.

"Come on, let's get you home, I'm sure Alan is looking for you."

Scowling, Edgar sat down firmly in the sand. Maybe a little too firmly. "Alan is dead."

Travis blinked, scowling at him, "I just talked to him earlier, come on, Ed, I'm taking you home. It's either that or you can spend the night in jail." Of course Alan and Travis were friends, why wouldn't they be?

Edgar scowled, "he threw me out. Didn't want to fight for truth and justice. Gave up on me. Gave up on America."

Travis grabbed his arm and pulled him up, "come on, let's go."

"Is there some kind of law against freedom?!" Edgar demanded, a bit louder than he'd planned to.

Travis sighed and pulled him toward the Boardwalk, "Ed, do we really have to do this again? Can't you just come quietly for once?"

"You show me where it says in the book that I have to go back to that liar!" Edgar snapped, showing Travis his false hand but not struggling as he pulled him along. "_This _is his fault."

"Listen, Ed, we go through this every time. If you're belligerent I have every right to take you to the station, especially if you refuse to go home to your brother."

"I was just camping," Edgar replied, gritting his teeth. No sense in explaining everything, about the bloodsucking apocalypse they were headed for, or what a dick Alan was, "is that so wrong?"

"It's illegal." He stated, taking him to his car.

"Since when?!"

"Since forever." He opened the back door of his police cruiser, "in you go."

"This is entrapment!" Edgar shouted, sitting down in the backseat.

He rolled his eyes, closing the door before getting behind the wheel, "I don't want to hear about it. We go through this every time, aren't you tired of it?"

"I'm tired of a lot of things, Travis. I'm tired of the corpses piling up in my city. I'm tired of people letting me down. I'm tired of having to wipe with my bad hand. But justice? Fighting evil? I will _never _tire of that." He stuck out his chest proudly. Patton couldn't have made a better speech.

Travis sighed again, he seemed to be doing a lot of that. Without another word he drove toward the police station.

Edgar could just picture the look on Alan's face. So yeah, maybe he _did _pay their rent, and buy all the food, and cover the bills—Ed frowned, trying not to lose his train of thought. It wasn't easy moonlighting as a hero and working a nine to five.

A fuzzy voice on Travis's radio alerted the cop, and Ed struggled to make out what the person on the other end was saying, but he did notice when Travis took a sharp turn in the wrong direction, "what the crap?!" Edgar yelped.

"Stay put and don't touch anything." Travis said sternly, coming to a stop near the carousel, "I'm serious, Ed." He got out of the car, leaving him alone.

Edgar squinted, looking out the passenger window. All he could make out was a scarecrow in women's underwear strapped to one of the horses. It was an hour before Travis came back, a fucking hour that he was left alone in the back of this shitty cop car.

"Have fun at the carnival?" Edgar retorted.

Travis said nothing as he got back behind the wheel. He laid his forehead on the steering wheel for a moment before starting the car, "I have to get you to the station." He said softly.

That didn't sound right. Where was the anger, the self-righteous denial of Edgar's sense of justice?

"Something happen out there, bud?"

Travis' eyes met his in the rearview mirror, "yeah…" he trailed off, it didn't seem like he was going to share with the class what had happened.

"Vampires, huh?" Edgar asked, knowingly.

Travis scowled at him, "strangulation, if you must know." He bit out, "this bullshit about vampires has gone on too long, Edgar."

"That's what I try to tell people. It's bullshit to pretend they don't exist!"

"Vampires aren't real! The mayor died from strangulation, not having his blood drained!" He yelled, slamming a fist on the steering wheel.

Edgar scowled, "how do you know that? They could've staged it. Covered their tracks. That's how their minds work. They're like people."

"Edgar," Travis' voice was deadly calm, "if you don't shut up about vampires on our way to the station I'm going to gag you, I'm going to treat you like a biter."

It was never easy getting through to the normies. For a split second, a solitary moment, Edgar almost thought he had. "Fine. Any theories?"

Travis refused to answer, starting the car and heading toward the station. It seemed as though he was done talking and if Ed knew what was good for him he'd shut up.

"Gotta make a plan," Ed grumbled, vocalising his thoughts despite and perhaps because of the tension in the car. "Make sure Sam and Alan know how big this is getting…"

"One last warning, shut up or I'm going to pull over and gag you."

"That's bullshit!" He couldn't be serious!

Travis slammed on the brakes and violently threw the car into park. He was serious.

* * *

Death had never been boring. There were some of their endless nights when Michael could almost feel his brothers itching to kill the last of Michael's human family and be done with it, as if that would somehow give them all a new sense of freedom they didn't really have. Not in the years since Michael had joined them. Honestly, though, that had always seemed like an excuse to him. The reason they'd all begun to really get restless was the _routine. _The invisible leash of holding on to their territory without an unkillable master to torment.

Now, though, they had something new. A challenge. Fresh blood. The night was almost over, though. They had to settle for leaving a note on the door of the guest house.

"This sucks! I don't wanna wait until tomorrow night!" Marko whined.

"Yeah, I know, stop whining like a little bitch." David said, glaring at him. Honestly he didn't want to wait either but there wasn't much choice in the matter, sunlight was a bitch.

"Nothing wrong with a bit of Kentucky fried Marko," Paul teased, ruffling Marko's hair and dodging a sharp swipe of the smaller vampire's claws with a laugh.

"Dwayne, did you add that bit in the note I asked you to?" David asked, rolling his eyes at Paul.

"Yeah, not like I get why you added the stipulation about not going out during the day though."

"Can they?" Michael spoke up from his relaxed position at the couch where he nursed a half-empty beer, "I mean can _they_ go out in the day? Are they mutant freaks or something?"

"Mutant freaks? No, just a different line? Lineage? I can't remember whatever the fuck Max called it. Yeah, they can go in the sun."

Marko hopped onto Paul's back, tugging at his hair viciously in retaliation for his earlier jab, while simultaneously looking back at David in disbelief, "seriously? Is that even possible?"

"Yeah, the sun just wears them out, when they're younger."

Paul unsuccessfully tried to shake Marko off, and when that failed, dropped to the ground to try to crush the smaller vampire beneath him, only to find Marko quickly jumping out of the way. He cursed, scrambling to his feet and flashing Marko two birds, "any trade-off? Like are we better at some shit while they aren't?"

"Well, we can fly, they can't so I guess that's a plus in our favor. As far as I know we're just as strong as each other. We've got claws, they don't. I don't know what all they can do, I mean, it's not like I've dealt with them much but we're different enough."

Michael tossed his unfinished beer into one of the burning oil barrels, sitting up and crossing an arm over one knee, "should make this contest fun if they take us up on it at least."

* * *

When Travis had called him to say he arrested Ed, again, Alan honestly wasn't surprised. His brother needed something new to focus on, something new to get obsessed about because the vampire thing was going to get at least him killed.

Alan had cooled down enough after the last fight not to wring his brother's neck. For now.

"If Travis isn't careful, he's gonna be someone's dinner later," Ed remarked, fastening his seatbelt as they climbed into Alan's car.

"Edgar." His voice was cold as his fingers clenched around the steering wheel, "this has to stop."

"Did he tell you what happened last night?" Ed asked, turning to look at him, "the mayor was iced, Alan. He's dead. You _know _how."

"Yeah, he was strangled, dipshit, Travis told me. No bites, no missing blood, strangled."

"Did he say anything about—" Edgar paused, "no missing blood? He said that?"

"Yeah, he said that, made it clear since you were so adamant about vampires. Ed, this has to stop, you lost your hand, and I'm not going to lose my life because you were too stubborn to give up." He thought he had cooled down enough, really he did, but he was wrong, he was still pissed at his brother and really wanted to strangle him.

Ed was silent for a moment, his lead-lined skull seeming to absorb _something _for once in his life. Then he had to open his mouth, "compromise."

Alan blinked at him, dumbfounded, "compromise? What kind of compromise is there to make?"

"So maybe you have a point. I'm not at the top of my game anymore." The chink in Ed's aluminium foil armour finally showing was almost disturbing in and of itself. "But I can't just let people die. We need to train the next generation, Alan," and then added a little more quietly, "maybe they'll be a little better."

"The next generation? What? Do you want to post on Craigslist? Seeking apprentice vampire hunter?"

"No," Edgar shook his head, "we do what we used to. Moonlight at a comic shop. Talk about the mission. I could get a job at that new one opening up on West Congress."

"I'm not quitting my job, you can go work there, _if_ they'll even hire you. I'll even take you to work as long as you do something more constructive with your life." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. As long as he was working maybe it would keep his focus on something besides hunting, he could only hope.

"But you'll help me screen calls for them, right? Like we used to?" Ed asked, and it was almost as if he'd completely forgotten that Sam was the _only _kid who'd ever called them with a serious vampire problem.

Could he make this compromise? Ed was a stubborn bastard, what if this was the best he could get? "If I answer the phone." He had every intention of never picking up the house phone again. "Maybe you should just put your cellphone as the contact point."

"You think I should get a burner? Just in case?"

"No, vampires aren't going to hack your phone." Ok, maybe this wasn't the best idea.

Ed nodded, "you're probably right. I bet they don't even know how to work them anyway. Bloodsuckers don't have enough brain power for that." Irony was not a term Alan's brother could ever truly appreciate.

* * *

"I guess we made an impression," Gabriel called out from his position at the front door where he nursed a cup of coffee their servant, Clarence, had prepared for him. He'd just finished scanning a hastily scrawled invitation to a party. A party at the house they were renting out. "They want to throw a party and have a contest with us."

Donovan raised an eyebrow, looking at him from over the top of his newspaper, "oh? Interesting. I wonder what kind of contest they want to have." He laid the paper down, "we did make the front page after all."

"No good pictures though," Gabriel replied, "just the carousel before the big show. Doesn't leave the same impression? Does it?" He glanced back down at the letter, skimming through it, "just to see the crazy shit we can get people to do. Body count by proxy?"

"Hmm, perhaps we can do something with that man with the hook for a hand." He said thoughtfully. "It already seems as though people think he's crazy."

"I don't think he'd be easy to control," Gabriel shook his head, "you've gotta have something sane to latch onto."

"It would be a challenge. Well, what do you think? We have time to plan something interesting."

Gabriel folded the letter up and walked towards Donovan, who was nestled comfortably on the living room couch. Settling comfortably beside him, he offered his mate the letter to read it himself, "I used to be a hunter. My old friends would be mortified if we did anything _too _crazy."

"Do you think they will ever know of what we do while on vacation? Is this not a chance to let loose a little?" He asked, taking the letter..

Gabriel rolled his eyes, swirling the dregs of his coffee, "funny way to say 'screw them', but I'll bite. Just this once. After that, though, we're going to be good when we get home."

"Define _good_. Am I not always good to you?" He asked with a laugh.

"I have to sit through an interrogation with my friends every other week, what do you think?" Gabriel asked with a subtle smirk. Hard to be half as defensive about their victims, considering that the only alternative was starving.

"I still do not understand why you even bother." He said with a wave of his hand, "I could _make_ them stop asking."

"I don't see any point in arguing about philosophy," Gabriel admitted, "but they're my friends and I still like our Friday night poker games. If I stop caring altogether about who I eat, then I've got nothing to do on Fridays. Happy?"

"Very well, I suppose there still is no talking you into letting me do a little tampering with their minds." He hadn't gotten to experiment in far too long. Or so he said, often. Almost too often.

"We'll have a party tonight," Gabriel pointed out, "plenty of people to mess with. No need to scramble any brains back home, you can just do it here in Santa Carla. Who knows, maybe I'll even get some practice in the meantime." For the most part, Gabriel tended to avoid messing with people's psyche.

That thought certainly brightened his mood, "I would love to see that." Maybe his mate would find he enjoyed it.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a bad influence?" Gabriel asked, setting his coffee on the table beside the couch.

"You're the first. Father never accused me of being a bad influence, although if I'm one then he is a million times worse." He said, smiling at him, "besides, I am merely doing my job as your sire and mate."

"Right," Gabriel replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes yet again, "so I guess we need to set this place up for a party tonight. You think Clarence can rustle up some guests himself or should we handle that part?"

"Hmm, let's see what we can do, Clarence can prepare the house while we find appropriate _guests_."

"Teenagers, or more of those creeps who _like _teenagers?" Gabriel would never shake his compulsion for seeking out the dregs in society, it tended to narrow their menu quite a bit.

"Both?" He questioned, "a variety is always best to choose from. Something for everyone."

"There's all sorts here in Santa Carla, aren't there?" Gabriel mused.

* * *

He couldn't believe his eyes. His brother, Edgar, was finally doing something close to normal. He was ironing a shirt right that minute while Alan dismantled his 'training ground' in the backyard. 'Normal' had become such a foreign concept, it was sort of difficult to comprehend that having a 'normal' life was even possible.

Today had started out so well, he was sure that it could only get better. So, imagine his surprise when he had finally finished taking down the 'training' equipment and stopped to get the mail on his way inside only to find an invitation, to a party, at the old house. Shit.

Why did they get this? Had Sam reached out and had a chat with their guests, prompting the invitation? It didn't seem likely. Alan scowled. Going there would only get Ed worked up, and who knew if he'd ever be able to get his brother to try being normal again. Alan shook his head, quickly ripping the invitation up. It just wasn't worth it. Maybe he should burn it for good measure.

* * *

Rarely was Clarence ever prepared for the festivities his masters engaged in, though he tried. There were ample cleaning supplies. Certainly a few well-connected individuals in the local police force, though no city any self-respecting vampire frequented didn't have one or two of those. Tonight, having been informed of the party, he dearly hoped he had enough garbage bags to dispose of all the coats he'd be taking from guests.

"Clarence, did you acquire enough alcohol for tonight?" Donovan questioned, walking into the living room from the kitchen where he had been with Gabriel.

"I assume, master, that you want all guests properly inebriated so that they might be easier to influence?" Clarence asked, gingerly opening a bag of ice to pour into a large keg bucket.

"You would be correct, it makes the contest more interesting."

Servants were not bred to question, nor judge their masters for any proclivities, and Clarence was no different. He did lament, however, that such a nice house was likely to soon be destroyed. He'd gathered that the true owners didn't care much for it.

"Do you wish for me to tend bar this evening, master, or will you be disposing of the earlier guests first as a pre-supper snack?"

"No, go ahead and tend bar, I can't say what the others will do but no need for, what did Gabriel call it? Pregaming?"

A soft smile threatened to curl Clarence's lips, but he remained respectfully stoic, "it is a common practice. Though most people don't feel the need to do so unless they have to pay for whatever drinks are being provided at a party or social situation."

"I believe tonight shall prove interesting, even if we don't win, it will have proven to be an entertaining night."

Just then, Gabriel strolled into the kitchen, a letter in hand, "they dropped off another one," he informed Donovan, tossing it to the counter. "They want to bring a few of their own guests, so they'll probably be fashionably late."

Donovan raised an eyebrow, looking at it for a moment before picking it up, "did you read it?"

"I think it's the terms of the contest. I figured you'd want to read it first," Gabriel told him with a shrug, leaning back against the counter.

Donovan cleared his throat before beginning to read, "'_the terms of the game are simple_,' well, the writer is quite straightforward, isn't he? '_The winner will be whoever can make their chosen victim get into the most trouble. This includes property damage and assault. No outright murder, manslaughter is acceptable. No cheating, you can't help your target commit crimes, and no going out during the day, gotta keep things fair._' Ah, yes, that makes sense, they can't experience the joys of the sun like we can, not that you don't still have issues staying awake." He said, looking at Gabriel.

Gabriel shrugged, "blood-drinking supernatural monster or not, I don't see how you _can _only sleep three hours a day and still function." He paused, "shit, this is going to make the news if we go all out. You think the hunters back home will find out?"

"When you were a hunter did you care as much for the plight of other cities?" He questioned.

Gabriel shrugged, "I didn't have any vampires for friends." He glanced down at his coffee cup, examining the contents, "I guess I'd have been too busy with my own problems even if I did. Plenty of other monsters back home to worry about than a couple at a beach party in another state, though."

"You have nothing to worry about with regards to your pet humans."

Gabriel gave him a look, but said nothing. Continuing the argument they liked to have about his former companions never seemed to come to an end either of them agreed with.

"I guess we'll have to make a guest list," Gabriel remarked, changing the subject.

"An open invitation will afford us a wider range of possible candidates for our little contest."

"Does sending Clarence out count as cheating?"

Donovan smirked, "well, since he isn't a party in the game I don't see why it would be."

"Great," Gabriel looked over at Clarence with a grin, "think you can find us a couple of punks in the town over, Clarence? Easier than starting from the ground up if they've got experience…"

Clarence bowed, "of course, master, I shall see to it." He looked quite pleased to be doing something productive. The vacation had left their servant with little to do.

* * *

There were times Sam felt invincible. His brother was a bloodsucker, after all. It was like any other scavengers stalking the city somehow sensed that and avoided him. Either that, or there just weren't as many as he used to think there were. So he liked to drive to Luna Bay sometimes, because the grocery stores there were open 24/7, despite the crime rate that had somehow overshadowed Santa Carla in the last decade. Night shopping was just more relaxing.

"Hey, Alan," he called out down the aisle, "thanks for the ride, man. I really need to get that piece of junk in my garage fixed. This is the third time this year it crapped out on me."

"Yeah, no problem." Alan replied, trailing after him slowly, stopping for a moment to pick out some ramen.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed someone dressed in a smart suit. A little formal for shopping in a store like this one. Or even a city like Luna Bay. He nudged Alan, "get a load of that guy. How much do you think he's got in the bank?" He probably made more than Sam and Alan combined. Not that Alan made much at all.

"Oh, shit, that's the guy we saw with the, ummm, visitors." He scowled, looking at what he was carefully putting into his cart, "are those twinkies?" He asked, "and who organizes their groceries like that in their cart?"

"Weirdos who work for v—" Sam caught himself awkwardly mid-sentence, "—just weirdos. Is he buying _snails_?" Sam gagged at the sight of an escargot tin with a plastic tube of shells attached to it.

"Twinkies and snails, is that what rich people eat?" Alan asked, unable to look away from the continued eclectic array of foods that went into the cart.

It felt bad keeping the secret to himself, but what if Alan decided to pull an Ed? Not that Sam honestly thought he would, but he'd have something to say if he knew Sam was renting out a house to vampires. He self-consciously rubbed at his throat, wondering if the one shopping was planning on snacking on more than twinkies and slimy bugs tonight.

"I guess so," Sam replied half-heartedly, comforting himself with the idea that at least they probably weren't eating people in Santa Carla.

"Should probably finish our own shopping." Alan scowled slightly, "what did you mean, weirdos who work for who?" He prompted as they continued down the aisle, "what are you not telling me?"

_Did _the guy work for the other two guests? He'd been the one taking care of the payment. Sam figured the less he knew, the better. "I rented out that house, you know, on Airbnb. The guys staying there are weird. He's a weirdo, I mean you can tell just by looking at what he's buying."

"Ed and I saw them when they came into town, one of 'em was dressed all nice and the other was in a rock band t-shirt, had your brother's sense of style, I think."

"Yeah, that's probably them." He shrugged, "I'm just staying away until they're gone. The whole renting thing was stupid. We should just burn that place down and be done with it." Sam looked back at his cart, "hey, did I put eggs on that list I handed you?" Smooth. Nice change of subject.

"Don't change the subject, Sam. I bet you're making good money off that house. I'm a little jealous you have access to that extra income. As for the eggs, no, they're not on the list."

"We should get eggs," Sam said quickly, trying to redirect his cart far away from the guy with the snails and Alan. He might have been successful if it weren't for the skinhead showing up out of nowhere and hassling the snail guy for no reason.

"Sir," he heard the snail-loving vampire freak speak, "I apologize if I have done something to offend you, but I was not staring at you."

"Shit, little guy's gonna get his ass kicked." Alan hissed, starting to head that direction, that whole saving people thing was hard to quit and was probably going to get him killed one day.

"You tryin' to start somethin'? I know you was lookin' at me, I'm not stupid." The skinhead snarled, reaching for what he thought was an easy victim.

The man immediately smacked his hand away like a mother scolding a child, "I will give you one warning, sir," he told him, "I have several errands to run and do not want to risk staining my jacket."

The man snorted, "I'll give you something to stain your jacket with." He reared a fist back, preparing to punch him. Just as it looked like Alan was about to step in and get them thrown out, the man stepped aside and swiftly grabbed the skinheads' arm as his fist sailed past him, expertly throwing him over his shoulder and to the ground.

"Now," the smartly-dressed weirdo spoke, "that will only be a warning. I trust you will learn from it."

Alan blinked, staring at him, before looking at Sam, "holy shit."

The man on the ground stared up at him dumbfounded, "what the fuck?"

Holy shit was right. Sam shuffled forward and grabbed Alan's shoulder, "I think he's a vampire, dude," Alan whispered. Shit, now he sounded like Ed. This was going to be fun to explain.

"No, no he's not, he's been out in the sun but, umm, shit," how was he going to say this, "the guys he works for are."

"Are you fu—" Alan nearly shouted, swatting Sam's hand away and turning on him. He quickly regained his composure when he caught sight of people staring at them, which was rich, considering the much more interesting pair that had nearly gotten into a fight just now. Alan lowered his voice, "are you fucking kidding me right now? You rented that place out to _bloodsuckers?!_ Have you gone insane?" He paused, "wait, no, they were out in the sun when we met them, man. There's no way."

"I swear, that's what Mike and David said. You act like I knew they were bloodsuckers when I rented it! It's not like you ask someone, 'do you eat people?' Whenever you rent out to someone." Sam defended.

Alan scowled, crossing his arms, "you do in _Santa Carla, _Sam. So your dead brother and his pals are involved now too?"

Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping, "no, Alan, you don't ask that. As far as Mike and them go, I think if our guests cause any issues it'll be taken care of without us having to worry about it."

"Christ," Alan hissed, "I guess I can't blame you, but shit, Sam. Why didn't you tell me?"

"And risk Ed overhearing?" Sam scoffed, "yeah, no."

Alan ran a hand through his hair, nodding, "okay, sure, but we grab beers all the time without him. Hell, Sam, you're the closest thing to an _adult _brother I have in my life."

Sam sighed, "I didn't want to even think about it. About the fact that there are 2 more vamps in town, and if what you said was true I _really_ don't want to think about them being in the sun."

"You're _sure _they're vampires?" Alan repeated, "I mean your idiot brother could be wrong. He was dumb enough to get turned into one of them in the first place."

"Dude, you didn't see him and David that night. _I_ don't even want to think about it and even though I know they like fucking with me, they were way too serious when we talked."

"Doesn't mean they're not dipshits," Alan insisted, "but alright. Fine. Maybe these guys are a new type. Shit. You think there's more than one kind?"

"There must be, I mean, what other explanation is there? We could do some research on our own."

"I—" Alan glanced back over at the weirdo who had begun to inspect two cantaloupes very intently, weighing them in his hands and holding one up to his ear, "—I don't want people to die, Sam, but Ed…" he trailed off, sighing deeply, "I finally got him to give up all this crap. If he finds me researching bloodsuckers, it'll send him over a cliff."

"I'll ask Mike, maybe he'll give me a straight answer, Ed doesn't have to know."

"Shit. Makes you sorta wonder why we stay in Santa Carla," Alan said, only half-joking.

Sam laughed softly, "yeah, maybe it's something in the water."

Alan's eyes wandered over to the weirdo, "yeah. Think your brother knows if he's planning something? Would he know?"

Sam shrugged, "only one way to find out."


	7. Don't Turn Around

The sound of Paul's cackling that typically woke them when the rocker played some sort of prank on Marko before their descent didn't happen tonight. Instead, Michael was forced to crack one red-rimmed eye open just shy of sunset when he heard the familiar, but almost as obnoxious sound of his cell phone ringing in his pocket. Probably shouldn't have charged it at dinner's trailer home last night.

He fished into his jacket pocket, nearly dropping it in the process, ignoring the murmur of complaints around him, "what's going on?" He demanded rudely. Sam knew not to call him until dark unless it was an emergency.

"Mike, I need to know something, it's important." Sam's voice was a little here and there, Michael didn't get the best reception in the hotel. Certainly not this deep inside it, either.

"No, Sam, I didn't eat those nuns last week. It was Marko. Is that all?" Michael asked, glancing over at David as he opened one very irritated eye.

"Are there other kinds of vampires?" Well, that was interesting. How did his brother figure that out?

He debated whether or not he should even give Sam a real answer. Seemed kind of weird. He hadn't been crazy enough to try and go after any of them since-well, since the only time he'd ever tried. "Maybe," Michael replied, not quite shrugging. Difficult to do hanging upside-down, and pointless when he was on the phone.

"Maybe? Yes or no, Mike. What is going on? Who are those guys staying in the house, _what_ are they?"

Michael rolled his eyes, "you're the one who rented it out to them. Didn't you ask before you handed over the key?" He snarked, a little grumpy.

"You're as bad as Alan, you don't just ask someone if they're a vampire." He replied, obviously ignoring the fact his brother was grumpy.

"Yeah, I guess there's other types," Michael relented.

"And you didn't think I might need to know that? Are they gonna go on a killing spree? How the hell can they go out in the sun? That's like an every vampire thing. I don't like this, Mike. Not knowing what's in our town."

"They're not gonna go out and kill a bunch of people, Sam. We talked. I don't know why they can go out in the sun. There's not some secret handbook to being a vampire."

He could practically see Sam scowling, "I'm gonna look into this more, Mike, if you don't tell me more about them so that I can be sure Ed won't find out about them and go off the deep end again I'm gonna have to do something. Alan finally got him to give up hunting."

It'd be tempting to just let the Frog dipshits get themselves killed, but that would throw off the game tonight. "Sam, I don't know anything about them besides what you know, but we are hanging out with them tonight, so I promise they're not going to slaughter the neighborhood. Happy?"

Sam sighed, "fine, but don't keep me in the dark, ok?"

"Gotcha. No problem." He glanced over at David, "stay away from the house tonight, Sam."

He could practically see the scowl on his brother's face, "alright." He didn't sound like he meant it.

"I can't protect you, I'm serious, stay away." It was pretty pointless to even tell him this if Sam had already decided.

"Fine, I'll talk to you later." And with that said he hung up.

"Can we eat him?" Marko called out. Michael didn't even dignify that with a response.

"Nah, he won't taste good, besides, if he does show up we can have a little fun." David replied, smirking at his mate.

Michael rolled his eyes, "try not to break him, alright?"

"No promises."

* * *

Alex was acting weird tonight. Ever since he'd walked up to those punks on the bikes to bum a cigarette. John shook his head, bringing his vape to his mouth. That shit was going to put his friend in an early grave.

"Party," Alex repeated for the twentieth time, slack-jawed and staring across the boardwalk.

"Christ, dude, we don't even know those guys!" John snapped, "why the hell do you think it's a good idea to take my dad's car out into the burbs and get trashed at some weirdo's place?"

"Why not? Come on, don't be a pussy."

"I'm-" he sputtered, "-I'm not a pussy! What if they're running some kinda drug ring, huh?"

Alex shrugged, "party." As if that was the answer to everything.

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "okay. We'll go when Carrie's done shopping. Only for an hour, though, and if I see one batshit thing, I'm out. You find another ride home. Deal?"

"Fine, fine, party!"

"You don't even party," John mumbled under his breath, just in time to hear another asshole walking out of a store nearby shout to his friends. "Party!" It was like a dipshit virus spreading now. Was this party really that great?

Maybe it was. By the time they had piled into his Jeep, John could swear at least 10 other cars were being packed with excited teenagers, while Alex leaned forward from the back seat and whispered '_party_' into his ear one last time before John kicked his engine into gear. Their drive to the house, based on Alex's oddly accurate directions without any notes or a phone to go off of, felt sort of like a procession. Every single car from the beach that had left seemed to be following their route too.

"You think this is a yearly thing?" John asked, glancing over to his girlfriend Carrie in the passenger seat.

She shrugged, "if it is, I've never heard of it. If it's awesome, maybe it should be made a yearly thing."

"It's gonna be great!" Alex exclaimed, gripping the back of John's car seat and bouncing forward like a little kid.

John rolled his eyes, pulling up into the grass outside of a white picket fence that must've seen better days. "We can only hang around for an hour, alright?"

Alex rolled his eyes, "since when did you become your dad?"

Carrie laughed, "he makes a good point, John."

Scowling, John pushed open his car door and quickly got out. "I just don't want to get my ass beat," he replied defensively, "but we can maybe do an hour and a half."

Alex hopped out of the car, walking backwards toward the door, "come on, man, nothing's gonna happen, it's just a party."

* * *

There was no drawback to dying as a teenager, as long as you came back. If any of them were just a few years older, it wouldn't have been nearly as easy to lure as many victims to the house. Marko and Paul exchanged looks, leaning against the wall as yet another pack of jocks strolled through the door. It wasn't going to be easy to keep their fangs to themselves, but they'd be on their best behavior tonight. That still wasn't saying much. Marko had already cheated and buried a pair of twins under the pile of coats in Max's old bedroom.

Michael relaxed on the couch in the living room, casually taking a drag from a joint strong enough to set any of the human guests on their asses for days if they even tried it. He passed it to Dwayne with a slight smirk, "you pick a target yet?"

"I have a couple possibilities picked out, what about you?" He asked, taking a drag off the joint.

Probing the thoughts of sober minds wasn't Michael's strong suit. People had a natural defense they didn't even know they needed, so it wasn't easy so early in the party to pick an easy target at will. His eyes scanned the teenagers and questionable older men filtering into the living room, "that one." Michael settled on an uncomfortable looking boy leaning against the wall watching a girl who looked a lot like him. A sister or a cousin, maybe.

Dwayne nodded, "good choice. You'll just have to loosen him up a bit first."

"What about you?" Michael nudged him, "gonna pick an easy target tonight?"

"Was thinking about it, just so Paul and Marko can't have one. Only so many easy marks to go around."

"I think those snacks they think they hid from us should disqualify the assholes," Michael pointed out, "it's cheating to do this on a full stomach."

Dwayne looked thoughtful, "I agree, why don't you convince David? He has the final say."

Michael's eyes scanned the room for their leader, and when that failed, reached out with only slightly drug hazed thoughts. The high never really lasted anyway. "_Paul and Marko made a couple kills. Thoughts?"_

_"Disqualified." _David's reply came almost immediately, as though he didn't even have to think about it, _"you hear that, dipshits? You're disqualified. I should send you back to the hotel."_

"_It was Marko, not me!" _Paul protested, as if he hadn't probably instigated it.

_"You ate, you're out, and that's final."_ He paused for a moment and Michael knew he was probably scowling, _"and if you try to sabotage the game you're going home and I'll think of another punishment."_

It was hard not to laugh, but Michael just barely managed to maintain his composure despite the suddenly petulant moods of both Marko and Paul.

"You think they'll throw a fit?" He nudged Dwayne, grinning.

"Oh, you know they will, there's no question about it." Dwayne replied, smirking back, "I bet they'll try something regardless of the warning."

He supposed their guests wanted to keep everything clean. Simple. Michael didn't get it, but he'd play along anyway, focusing on his target.

"Let the games begin," he remarked, stubbing out the joint on the arm of the couch.

* * *

"I thought you wanted to do this whole game thing," Gabriel said with a hint of exasperation, "are you gonna hurry up and get dressed or not?" Donovan had been in the bath for well over an hour.

"I have thought about it further and am unsure if this is the best idea." Donovan replied, "those boys seem rather, uncontrollable, once they get started."

"So you don't think you can beat them?" Gabriel teased, leaning against the doorframe, "or can't keep up?"

Donovan narrowed his eyes, glaring at him, "you're trying to trick me."

He shrugged, "maybe, but I'm being honest. I've _seen _you get carried away before, so what's the difference? Because they're immortal teenagers?"

"Yes and this isn't one of my experiments." He paused, "I've been on my best behavior for you, I don't think I've slipped lately."

Gabriel grinned, "so be on your worst tonight. We're on vacation." He paused thoughtfully, "okay, not your _absolute _worst. I don't want poor Clarence to have too much work to do."

Donovan sighed, slowly getting out of the bath, "very well, just remember, you asked for this."

"Great," Gabriel cheered, "this is going to be awesome!" He couldn't help but wonder if maybe Donovan wasn't joking, or maybe even tricked him into explicitly encouraging him to let loose. Who tricked who? He wasn't sure it even mattered, well, except to Clarence. Of course he had a feeling Donovan would put the blame on him if Clarence had to deal with too much.

"You don't look _too _old," Gabriel said slowly, "young enough to pass for a college student if you dress for the part."

Donovan raised an eyebrow, "do you want to dress me?" He asked, chuckling softly.

"You'll just bitch about whatever I pick," Gabriel replied, skirting the suggestive smile thrown at him, "now hurry up. There's a couple of barbies Clarence told me about and I want to see if I can get them to trash the post office or something. You think that'll win the game?"

"Perhaps if they paint ritualistic sigils and make it look like a summoning." Donovan said thoughtfully.

Gabriel's eyes danced, his laughter stifled, "that's a thought. They might have to sacrifice a designer sweater or two. Maybe a Gucci bag…"

"Think of some of those goat rituals you dealt with when you were a hunter."

"Have you seen any goats around here?" Gabriel asked, "maybe a couple of small dogs or a house cat."

"Clarence has been out more than I have, perhaps he's seen something we haven't. I doubt they have goats here but one can never know."

As it turned out, faithful and oftentimes surprisingly intuitive Clarence had three places in mind already to wrangle a few goats when they finally made their way to the kitchen to ask. One of the few rooms in the house that wasn't swarming with teenagers and college kids.

"Seriously?" Gabriel asked their servant, incredulous.

"One must always be prepared for every eventuality, goats are quite useful in various rituals." He said, looking offended that Gabriel would even think he wouldn't know where to find everything his masters needed or wanted.

"Right," Gabriel replied awkwardly, "sorry Clarence." He looked over at Donovan, knowing very well just how smug his mate felt right then and there. "Ready to join the party?"

"Of course, shall we?"

* * *

It took years of focus and self-control for any vampire to juggle head games with tempering their own appetites. Adding drugs or booze into the mix only made it worse. Dwayne had already subtly sabotaged Michael tonight, so the bet was going to be an easy win. If David _could _feel any guilt for his mate, he'd probably try. He could already feel Michael slipping, and the night had only begun. Of course he still had to get past their 'guests', but he didn't foresee that being a problem, no, Dwayne was his real competition.

"You can really pound them back," a nameless middle aged loser patted him on the back. Creeps like this always found their way to the big parties in Santa Carla. Lucky for David the crap he tried to slip in the beer had no effect.

David smirked at him, "get me another one and I'll show you something great." All he had to do was make Michael jealous and his mate would be out of the game. Michael was known to _eat_ his competition.

The guy's predatory attempt to look friendly was a joke, and the way that smile grew was even better. Scratching idly at his uneven chin stubble, He glanced at the back door of the house that stood wide open for party goers to come and go as they pleased. "You like vodka, kid?"

"I'm up for just about anything." David made sure his voice was low, practically sultry, as he looked the guy over.

"I'll make it a double then," the guy winked, "you won't know what hit ya." He was putting on a thinly-veiled act of an older brother type and coming off more like the uncle nobody talks about.

David smirked as the guy walked away to get that drink, spotting Michael glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill the guy would be dead a million times over.

Michael flicked the stub of his used-up joint into the backyard, leaning against the doorframe and watching the guy pass.

"Hey man, I need help getting a couple of cases out of my trunk. Wanna help?" He placed his hand on the creep's shoulder, making it a point to glare back at David in the process.

David looked back at him innocently, _"what's that look for?"_ He asked his mate.

"_Asshole," _Michael growled in his mind, disappearing inside the house.

Dwayne appeared minutes later sporting a subtle smirk. He had a girl on his arm and a beer in one hand, sauntering easily towards David. "One down," he remarked softly.

"Four to go."

"Three," Dwayne corrected him, "one of us has to win."

David smirked, "shall we pool our resources until we're the last ones standing?"

The girl sidling up close to Dwayne, "what are you guys playing?"

Dwayne shrugged, "chess. Hey, why don't you go inside and teach that rotten boyfriend of yours a lesson like we discussed?"

She pouted at him, "I'd much rather spend time with you." She practically draped herself across his back as she spoke.

His reaction was subtle. A slight twitch of his lips, a flash of confusion sparked in his eyes, and then it was gone and Dwayne's smile grew slightly, "don't you remember how he was looking at your sister?" Laced into the words was a forceful nudge from his mind, more powerful than simply speaking.

"That's true," she replied hesitantly, looking back at the house. Her face was a mask of concern and anger for an instant, replaced almost immediately with a big smile, "I'd rather spend time with you," she repeated, squeezing Dwayne's arm tighter.

David raised an eyebrow, _"someone's been in her mind."_ He spoke strictly to Dwayne, _"feels like someone familiar…"_ It was Paul, he knew it.

The hint of a laugh echoed in their minds, followed by a very smug remark, "_just playing a new game since you guys kicked us out. Even got Mikey in on it now."_

"_Don't call me that, asshole," _Michael cut in.

_"It's your own fault, _you _decided to eat when you knew you shouldn't have."_

"_Then it's your own fault for kicking us out," _Marko added, "_we're not gonna let this be an easy win for you, so deal with it."_

_"Fuck you, asshole. You want our visitors to win?"_

Michael remained silent, always preferring to let Paul or Marko lead when it came to leading the charge. He could be just as bad as them as long as he didn't bear the brunt of the consequences.

"_We want a stalemate," _Marko said simply, "_or a really good show. Either way, you lose too."_

"Motherfucker." David hissed, eyes flashing, "Dwayne, this means war."

The girl was too heavy-headed with the compulsions Dwayne had used to send her away and the combined efforts of the others, so she simply stared ahead, oblivious and just a little dazed.

"Agreed," Dwayne said with a not-so-emphatic nod.

* * *

"I'm getting a big Edgar vibe from you tonight, Sam, and it's freaking me out," Alan repeated for the ninth time, gripping his steering wheel firmly.

"We're just gonna go check it out, that's it, I promise."

Alan peered through the windshield, trying and failing to count the many people walking into the house. Mostly teens. Christ, there was no way any vampire could hide a potential massacre that big. No fucking way.

"Should we bring the crosses in the trunk?" Alan asked, smart enough to be prepared just in case.

"Just gotta keep 'em hidden."

Alan unbuckled his seatbelt, "hope they don't notice. I mean you'd think something that can kill those suckers would give off some kind of aura or energy."

"We never tested it but it seems like they have to actually see it before anything happens." He replied, getting out of the car.

"Christ, this is so messed up," Alan grumbled, climbing out of the car, quickly walking around to the back of the car to open the trunk. "So I'm assuming staking your brother is still off?"

Sam glared at him, "yeah, no staking my brother." He stood beside Alan, looking in at their arsenal.

"Water guns were a nice touch," Alan mused, tucking one into the back of his jeans, "not that we'll use it, right?"

Sam nodded, "better to have one and not need it, right?"

Alan nodded, "so we go in, make sure they aren't eating anybody - - and then what?"

Sam looked at the house, his jaw clenched, "I confront my brother and we stop this."

This was insane, and right now so was Sam. Alan offered a water gun to his friend, a little irritated, "dude, he's a vampire. This is what they do. It's been years since he literally bit the big one. You think he even remembers why this kind of shit is wrong? You think he cares?"

Sam looked at him, his eyes forlorn, "I just keep hoping that…" he trailed off, slowly taking the gun.

"For over twenty years," Alan pointed out, "you've been hoping for twenty years, and I keep hoping my brother will come back to reality. We're both SOL right now, Sam."

He sighed heavily, "you're right, maybe we should just go."

Alan shrugged, "we could be on the verge of letting evil win tonight. Are you prepared for that? Or at least are you prepared to lie through your teeth if Ed even gets a hunch about this whole-" Alan gestured towards the house, "-thing?"

He sighed, "you're right," he squared his shoulders, "let's do this."

"Yeah," a new member of their party agreed, clapping hands on their shoulders and leaning between them with a vicious grin, "let's do this, boys," Marko added for emphasis.

Sam and Alan froze, turning their heads at the same time to see who was there.

"Fuck." Sam said, swallowing hard.


End file.
